Kirai ni Narenai: I Can't Hate You
by Rb
Summary: (*complete* - part 7 of 7, plus epilogue/author's note) My 'novel'. ^_^ In the year 2028, Koushirou-tachi find out two truths: a) while you can't change the past, you can change the present, and b) It's hard to hate someone you once loved.
1. Part 1

Random Japanese translations:

-kun - used for someone of lower rank than you (employer toward employee) or to a boy of your age/younger.  
-san - Mr./Ms., a respectful term for someone of a higher rank.  
-sensei - term used for doctor/teacher.  
-chan - term of endearment for young children/girls up until about high school age.  
Itadekimasu - lit. 'I am about to partake' - said before eating a meal. 

There are reasons behind each suffix employed in this fic. For example, Hitomi addresses all of her friends by -chan, regardless of gender, because she's a cheerful/happy little kid, while Osamu addresses Tori, a girl, by -kun because she acts so boyish. I'm not sure who ranks higher out of Koushirou and Professor Takenouchi - Koushirou emplys the Prof, but Professor Takenouchi is an educator, which is the profession held in the highest regard in Japanese society...^_^;;

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. That happy job belongs to Toei. I do own a frying pan. You can all watch as my frying pan repeatedly thwaps the people in charge of making that #@$$#^$%$@# plothole-filled ending. (I'm really not upset that Miyako and Ken got together! I'm not! I'm not...okay, I am, but can someone explain to me while almost all of their kids are exact clones of their parents?)

**Kirai ni Narenai ~ I Can't Hate You  
Part One   
by Rb**

Izumi Koushirou learned back, stretched his arms beyond his head, and cracked his knuckles.  
  
"Having fun, Izumi-san?" smiled Professor Takenouchi.   
  
"Hai, Takenouchi-sensei," he answered solemnly. "The new data you gave me is very intriguing. Just a few more tests and I should be able to figure out -- "  
  
"Uh-uh," said Professor Takenouchi, wagging a finger in Koushirou's direction, a twinkle in his eye. "It's time to leave."  
  
"But, Takenouchi-sensei!"  
  
"You shouldn't have to work eighty hours a week. You do have a family, you know."   
  
Koushirou laughed nervously. "But -- "  
  
"No buts. Turn off the computer."  
  
"Fine," Koushirou sighed, half-upset at the interruption to his work. _Just a little bit longer, and_...the Professor was right, he had his daughter to come home to. He shouldn't stay so late.  
  
He turned off the holographic display and blinked for a moment, readjusting his eyes.  
  
"It's nice to see you're still so enthusiastic about your work, even after all these years," Professor Takenouchi smiled. "But, Izumi-san, isn't there anything you do outside of work?"  
  
"Um...well..." Koushirou sweatdropped.  
  
"You're such a workaholic, Izumi-san. That's not always a good thing." There was no benign twinkle in his eye now. "Take it from me. Relax a little. Take some time off."  
  
"Time...off?" Koushirou squeaked.  
  
"Time off. That's the technical term for 'time spent away from work.'"  
  
Koushirou's face went blank. "Um. Fine."  
  
"Izumi-san, do you even remember what the inside of your home looks like?"  
  
"Yes," Koushirou replied stiffly, gathering what shreds of dignity that remained.  
  
"Care to paint a mental picture?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Izumi-san, take the rest of the week off. Spend time with your daughter -- what's her name again?"  
  
"Hitomi." Despite himself, Koushirou felt his mouth and eyes soften at the thought of his daughter. "But, it's such a critical time -- "  
  
"Then it'll be a critical time when you get back. It's not like you're in need of the money! Come on, Izumi-san!"  
  
"Fine, fine..."  
  
Koushirou let himself get pushed out the door.  
  
---  
  
Koushirou unlocked the door to his house and stepped in.  
  
"Daddy!" Hitomi cried, and rushed into his arms.  
  
He picked her up and hugged her, because she was a five-year-old girl and at the perfect size for hugging. Then he tickled her, and she giggled madly.  
  
"Daddy, how are you?" she asked when he let her go.  
  
"I'm fine, honey. How was school today?"  
  
"It was fun!" Hitomi said importantly. "Tori-chan and I played with the blocks, and then Osamu-chan joined in. School's fun!"  
  
"I hope you're still saying that in five years," he said ruefully. Tori was Sora and Yamato's daughter, and Osamu was Miyako's and Ken's older son. All of the Japanese Chosen sent their children to the same prestigious private school, because it was the first school to allow Digimon to enter. Koushirou picked up his daughter again and hugged her.   
  
"Eh, Daddy?"  
  
"Nothing." He put Hitomi down again. "So, when's dinner?"  
  
"I just finished eating," Hitomi informed him.  
  
Koushirou sweatdropped. "Oh."  
  
"There's more dinner, if you want," said a new voice. Koushirou looked up to see his mother smiling at the scene in front of her. He'd urged his mother to move in shortly after his father had died nearly a year ago, officially to help with Hitomi, who had gone through three governesses already, privately because he wanted to keep his mother close to him in the time she had left.  
  
"Mmm, I do," he said, licking his lips, "especially if you made it." He smiled down at his daughter. "Hitomi, honey, why don't you run off and play with Motimon for a while. When I'm finished eating, I'll find you and read you both a story."  
  
"Okay!" Hitomi smiled and kissed her father on the nose before running down the hall at a breathless pace. Koushirou watched anxiously as she disappeared into another room, and listened for her giggles before entering the kitchen where, true to his mother's word, some dinner awaited him.  
  
"She looks just like you," his mother said as they sat down. "Even though she was..."  
  
"Adopted," Koushirou finished. "Yes, odd, huh? Especially because she has a Motimon...well, that's why I picked her. Tentomon approved."  
  
"I'd imagine he would. Where is Tentomon, anyway?"  
  
"He's off gathering information for the latest project in the digital world." Koushirou drank some water.  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"Mother, are you all right?"  
  
"Yes, it's just..." A patient smile creased her face into patterns of wrinkles, wrinkles that seemed to multiply every day. "I never imagined that I'd have such a wonderful grandchild."  
  
Koushirou knew that his mother had always longed for children and grandchildren, had been bitterly upset when her first baby boy had died in complications following his birth, that she herself had been unable to get pregnant again after adopting him. That he, Koushirou, was a disappointment to his mother in that he'd never even looked at a girl after his first and last girlfriend. His mother'd always wanted to be surrounded by children...  
  
Well, he'd done his best. Hitomi was in danger of being spoiled rotten -- but he'd love her anyway.   
  
After all, it wasn't his fault that the only girl he'd ever loved had married someone else. Or maybe it was. Maybe if he'd been more outgoing, less reticent, more eager...maybe he wouldn't have lost her before he'd even started.  
  
Maybe.   
  
---  
  
"Hitomi just fell asleep," Koushirou reported to his mother some time later that night. "I watched."  
  
"There's always something magical about watching your child sleep," his mother replied with a misty look in her eyes.   
  
Koushirou agreed with a smile. "Hitomi doesn't have school tomorrow. I thought we might so something -- go to the park, perhaps."  
  
"Don't you have work?" his mother inquired innocently.  
  
"I...have an injunction to take a break. Well, I'm off to bed myself," he yawned.   
  
"Sweet dreams, dear," said his mother, obviously also about to fall asleep  
  
Koushirou trudged to his room. It was large and very neat, looking as if it was barely lived-in at all.  
  
Koushirou was neat by habit and by nature. Whenever he worked on his computer, all of his files were neatly labeled -- never was there any confusion over what file was what. His bed was always neatly made in the morning. No clothing was ever left on the floor.  
  
He undressed, putting his old clothing in the hamper and putting on a fresh t-shirt and boxers for sleeping in. After quickly checking his e-mail -- old habits died hard -- he got underneath the covers and fluffed up the pillow underneath his head. He closed his eyes but did not sleep.  
  
The time before sleeping was a time that he treasured. It was a time that he was able to think without interruptions from anyone. It was a time where his thoughts would drift freely, and not even he could decipher their trail.  
  
Right now, he thought about loneliness. He'd adopted Hitomi because he was very lonely. He'd been almost forty, wildly successful, made regular donations to charities, never married...  
  
He'd felt as though he was lacking in some way, so he adopted Hitomi, and never regretted it. Although Hitomi hadn't been old enough to remember times before Koushirou had adopted her, he'd never hidden the truth from her. He remembered his own traumatic experience with finding out he was adopted vividly. He wanted to avoid the same experience with Hitomi.  
  
_Yet..._  
  
There was still something missing, something important. While he loved Hitomi with all of his heart, it wasn't enough.  
  
He wanted to love someone, not as a father, not as a son, not as a friend, but as a person loves his partner. The depth of his desire frightened him, because Koushirou had never been one for emotions. He'd always looked for reasons, not feelings. He was rational.  
  
Is there any bigger enemy to rationality than love? Is there anything that's more of a challenge? He doubted it. Love was some sort of...of force that he never understood, and while he was building the wall bigger and bigger with which to hold it back, it kept threatening to burst forth and flood him.  
  
His problem? He was in love with the wrong person.  
  
She was married, of course, had been for over fifteen years. And it was his own fault; if he'd told her how he'd felt, if he'd bothered to explain to her how much she really meant, if he'd been able to express how he felt, then she wouldn't have left him after their final flaming row, then she wouldn't have stopped answering his e-mails and phone calls, she wouldn't have married Ichijouji Ken...  
  
Koushirou finally realized what love meant to him. He finally was able to understand love, understand its power and passion and all the things that truly make up a relationship. He understood it...but only as a third-party observer, because there was no one to help him experience love first-hand, touch it, believe in it with all of his heart.  
  
Izumi Koushirou finally realized the true power of love at the wedding reception of Inoue Miyako, the girl he'd crushed on and finally loved since he was thirteen, and Ichijouji Ken. Koushirou had been on good terms with Ken before the wedding, but hadn't been able to look him -- either of them -- in the eye for several years afterwards. Even now, it was difficult to be around them, although he was able to be civil.  
  
It was hard to hate them. They were so mushily in love, just recently celebrating the birth of their third child. He'd been invited to the christening, and had held Hitomi's hand tightly, as if it was a talisman, until she'd squirmed away. He didn't hate them. He really didn't. He envied their good fortune. He envied them to such an extent that it surprised himself.  
  
If...but, no, there would never be a chance for him and (Ichijouji) Miyako, no matter how much he wished for it.  
  
Nevertheless, he'd vowed to teach Hitomi about the value of love, somehow. He didn't want her to repeat his sad mistakes.  
  
Koushirou finally fell into a restless sleep, and dreamed. His dreams were almost happy. His life was almost happy. He had plenty to be happy about -- but he never had anything to make him truly happy.   
  
---  
  
The next day Koushirou rose later than he was accustomed to, luxuriating in the extra hours of sleep. He took a long hot shower and dressed in casual clothing before sauntering downstairs.  
  
His mother was cooking breakfast, and the delicious smells wafted their way up Koushirou's nose, making his stomach growl and his mouth water. Hitomi was sitting at the table already. She gave Koushirou a hug and kiss and then sat back down. Motimon burbed something indistinct to Hitomi, who smiled back at her partner.  
  
Koushirou wondered at the bond between the digimon and his daughter. True, all of the original Chosen had strong bonds with their digimon, but they'd been fighting together, had to live together, had to survive with each other.   
  
Hitomi had never been in a fight, and Motimon had never shown any sign of wanting to evolve into an older level. Yet Hitomi and Motimon were linked at a very fundamental level. Even their moods were linked.  
  
All the digimon were linked, really. Their attitudes and opinions almost always closely resembled their human partner's, a perfect completion.   
  
Digimon might just be programs, Koushirou thought fondly, but they were alive. He knew, more than anyone, how Digimon were put together, how they were created -- he'd been studying them longer than any other human, for most of his life.   
  
_And yet, we're just programs, when it comes down to it. Our programs are in our DNA, their programs in a computer, that's all the difference. They're still _alive_, just like us._  
  
Watching his daughter laugh with her digimon, Koushirou made a mental note to call Tentomon back from wherever he was researching soon. He missed his friend.  
  
"Hitomi, where do you want to go today?" he asked her. "I'm free all day."  
  
Hitomi considered. "Where d'you wanna go?"  
  
"I was asking you, Hitomi."  
  
"I don't care." Hitomi smiled beatifically. "I just wanna be with Daddy."   
  
His heart melted.  
  
"Umm...but Motimon can come, too, right?" Hitomi added cautiously.  
  
He laughed. "Of course. Do you want to go to the park, Hitomi?"  
  
"Sure!" Hitomi chirped. "I can show you where Sora brings Tori-chan and Touma-chan and me!"  
  
"Sora?" Koushirou asked, his brow furrowing. "Don't you mean 'Mrs. Ishida'?"  
  
Hitomi blinked. "Sora says to call her Sora. She doesn't want to be called Mrs. Ishida. She says it makes her feel old. Anyway, she's Ms. Takenouchi now."  
  
Koushirou wondered how he'd feel if a five-year-old were to address him by 'Koushirou'. A bit on edge, he supposed. Fairly weirded out. He didn't think he'd like it.  
  
But then again, Koushirou was extraordinarily polite, always had been.   
  
"Huh," was all he said.  
  
His mother came in just then, holding three steaming plates. "Breakfast, anyone?"  
  
"Yes! Yes! FOOD!" yelped Hitomi and Motimon at the same time. "_Itadekimasu_! Let's eat!"  
  
Koushirou watched his daughter and her digimon inhale the food, and starting eating at a rather more sedate pace.   
  
He'd take her to the park, and maybe on a walk, and just relax. With his family.  
  
"Mother, do you want to come with us?"  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Good."  
  
They were his family, after all. His mother, his daughter...neither directly related to him, perhaps, none of them sharing the same genes, but they were a family nonetheless. A family of the heart -- that was what was important, anyway.   
  
---  
  
Koushirou didn't check his mail that day. Normally, it was one of the first things he'd do in the morning and the last thing he'd do at night. But he really wanted to relax.  
  
Maybe, if he had checked his mail, his whole future would have changed. But he didn't.  
  
---

Late that afternoon, Koushirou received a phone call, while sitting on a bench in the park. He fished his pocket vid-phone out of his pocket and put it on, swinging the headset and microphone in front of his head and lips in a practiced gesture. He held the tiny vid screen in his hand. As the static cleared, he saw Hida Iori's worried face.  
  
"Iori, what's wrong? Are you all right?"  
  
"Where have you been, Koushirou-san?" Iori snapped.  
  
Koushirou was considerably taken aback by the anger in the normally level-headed younger man's voice. "I'm in the park with my daughter. I took a day off."  
  
"You? A day off?" Iori sounded surprised, which irritated Koushirou. "Anyway, have you been checking your e-mail at _all_?"  
  
"No," said Koushirou, annoyed. "Why should I?"  
  
He could see Iori trying to phrase the next sentence kindly, and his stomach turned cold. Something was very, very wrong.  
  
"Koushirou-san...Ken-san was in a car accident."  
  
Koushirou swallowed. "Ichijouji Ken?"   
  
"Yes," Iori affirmed solemnly.  
  
"How bad was it?"  
  
"His funeral is in two days."  
  
Koushirou's jaw dropped. "Ken-san's dead?"  
  
"Hai," repeated Iori. Koushirou, looking closely, could see how depressed Iori looked, and knew instantly that his friend was holding back tears. "Wormmon died, too. The second that Ken-san's heart stopped, he just...dissolved into nothingness, like he'd lost the will to live." Iori gulped and went on. "I sent you e-mails, but you never responded."  
  
"I'm...sorry. When did they die?"  
  
"An hour ago."  
  
An hour ago, Koushirou had been pushing Hitomi on the swings and thinking that there is no greater joy in life than this.  
  
"I..."  
  
"Just be at the funeral, Koushirou-san." Iori said, sounding very tired and very old. "Miyako-san's very upset," he warned. "Not at you, but...she's talking with my wife at the moment, and Sora-san and Hikari-san." Even though Iori had been married for ten years, he still couldn't control a faint blush of pride at "my wife." Lucky, thought Koushirou.  
  
"I'm sorry, Iori. Pass on my condolence to Miyako-san."   
  
"I will. See you soon." Iori turned off his end, and after a brief, stunned moment, Koushirou removed the headset and turned off the vid phone.  
  
_Ken-san dead? It didn't make sense_...  
  
Putting a facade to mask his true feelings, he walked back to his family and suggested they go home. His mother looked at him worriedly, but Hitomi skipped and laughed and talked for the rest of the way home.  
  
As soon as they got home, Koushirou went directly into his private study. It was the only room that was truly private, attached only to his bedroom. Originally (when he'd purchased the house), the bedroom was the private room. Koushirou has rightly reckoned that with a young child in the house, his sleeping space would be invaded frequently, but his workspace should not.  
  
He kept the only key on a chain around his neck.  
  
His study, like the rest of his rooms, was incredibly neat - but bare. The cabinets all had locks on them, but were all unlocked and empty. Perhaps the most important thing in the room was the computer. It was a hacker's dream come true, one of the most powerful computers in all of Japan -- and, probably, the world.  
  
Koushirou used it to check his e-mail. Iori _had_ sent him tons of e-mail. The first one was a very general, very condensed e-mail written to most of the Chosen Children and various friends of Miyako's and Ken's, stating the facts but no speculation -- Iori had a degree in Journalism, which showed. Iori had sent hourly updates of Ken's condition (declining rapidly) and frequent letters to Koushirou, desperately asking where he was.  
  
"You were _requested_," Iori wrote coldly in one e-mail, sent fairly late in the day. "Where are you? What's holding you up?"  
  
Then there was another, final, briefly worded message:  
  
"Ichijouji Ken and Wormmon. Time of death -- 4:18 PM."  
  
At that point, Iori must have given up and called him.  
  
The light from the computer played over Koushirou's still features for quite some time.  
  
---  
  
Inoue Miyako never thought she would ever have to sleep alone again after marrying Ichijouji Ken.  
  
Well, there were times, when Ken was on business trips or working late shifts, that she did sleep alone. But even then, it wasn't really sleeping alone -- it was simply a lapse in the time that he spent beside her.   
  
Miyako always wanted to be protected. As long as there was a presence with her -- and Ken certainly had a presence -- she felt safe. Ken was tall, much taller than her, and strong, and muscled, and very, very, protective.   
  
Even after all these years, she was still amazed that Ken had picked her to be his bride. Although she'd had a crush on him in her early teens, she'd quickly dropped her feelings for him in favor of any number of first loves and boyfriends. Then there had been that relationship with Koushirou...she turned the memory aside.  
  
Miyako and Ken had bounced together, almost by accident -- Miyako had wanted someone to talk to, and Ken was in one of his (what Miyako privately called) _flamboyant_ attitudes. They'd renewed their friendship and became close.   
  
Miyako liked being friends with Ken because she felt like she didn't have to impress him. She was 99 percent positively sure that he was 'involved' with Daisuke -- which was a relaxing idea, after she'd become resigned to it. Here was a guy that she didn't have to impress. Here was a guy that she didn't have to flirt with. Here was a guy that she could be friends and not worry _is he interpreting this the right way? Am I sending the wrong signals?  
_  
So it was the biggest surprise to Miyako that Ken had proposed to her. And of course, she accepted...maybe Hikari and Hawkmon were right, maybe she _didn't_ have to be someone else, maybe a guy could love her for who she was...  
  
Despite her doubts, despite her private misgivings, she had been happy, happy, happy. Finally, a man who would protect her and cherish her and help her through out everything...a man who would always support her.  
  
The night after he died was the hardest night she'd ever spent. Alone in the bed they'd always shared, with his scent fast-becoming nothing but a memory, she wept for what had been and what could never be.  
  
---  
  
Now, let's take a break from the current drama and look at some of the children of the digidestined. They aren't carbon copies of their parents, and they're all a lot smarter than their parents think.   
  
Ichijouji Mikomi is twelve, going on thirteen.  
  
When her mother was twelve years old, she'd been saving the digital world. When her father was twelve, he'd been the heartless Digimon Kaizer.  
  
Mikomi is a perfectly balanced mix of her mother and father. She has her father's dark blue hair and her mother's light brown eyes. She is rapidly approaching her father's height, and she wears a pair of glasses like her mother's. Mikomi has the awkwardness that's rather common among pre-teenaged girls. She's smart but feels dumb, pretty but not pretty enough, tired of being underestimated but unable to see how she can stop.   
  
Mikomi has her mother's passion and enthusiasm combined with her father's cynicism. Neither will let the other fully control her life, which makes Mikomi into one of those souls that is eternally conflicted.  
  
Ichijouji Mikomi is twelve, going on thirteen. That really says it all.  
  
Ichijouji Osamu, her younger brother, is nearly five. He looks almost exactly like Ken did at that age (except for the purple hair), and acts like Ken did.  
  
His parents are aware of this, and try their hardest to encourage Osamu's gentle tendacies. Osamu is the true test on whether what you become is inheirited or enviromental.   
  
Osamu is one of those people best described as 'simple'. It's not that he's stupid, but it's already clear that he is the type of person that will step over cracks until he's fourteen as not to break his mother's back -- and, when he does, will always say a private prayer of health for Mommy.   
  
As of yet, it's unclear which way he'll go. Would a gentle person ever survive? Would a cruel person survive too well?  
  
Ichijouji Ari is the baby, barely six months old. In Japanese, Ari means 'ant'. In Hebrew, Ari means 'lion'. He could be either. He could be neither. He had blue hair and violet eyes and always looks unhappy -- probably because he is.  
  
Izumi Hitomi is a cheerful munchkin of five years. She's like light, always happy, very loving and affectionate, doted on by her grandmother and father. She was adopted, but she's too secure to let that shake her -- yet, anyway. It would be a crime to harm her in any way.  
  
Takenouchi Tori, at five, looks like a boy, acts like a boy, and wishes she was a boy, so that she could live with her father and little brother. Ishida Touma is her younger brother by two years, too young to remember a time when their parents weren't seperated. If Sora and Yamato don't get their acts together soon, their children are going to be as screwed up as they were.  
  
Hida Himeko is Iori's daughter. Himeko means 'princess', which is exactly what she is -- the spoiled, petted princess. Utterly brilliant, at ten she's already in the sixth grade. She's also talented in music, acting, kendo, and at making everyone else really annoyed at her perfection. Oddly enough, she's also completely oblivious to how she sets everyone's teeth on edge.   
  
Daichi Motomiya, one of the two American children of the twelve original Chosen, was named so as a joke. Daisuke had gotten so sick of being called 'Daichi', as if he were no more than a Taichi clone, that he dubbed his son by that name. Apparently, Daichi's mother had disagreed, and later ran off. Daisuke had never been too affected by that, and his son has inheirited much of his father's happy-go-lucky attitude and charm. Oddly enough, to most of the world he was 'Dai', a nickname he was rather pleased with.  
  
Daichi is closest to Shawn, Mimi's young son who was also American, and Shuten, Jyou's son and Shawn's elder half-brother. Shawn was rather sullen around most of the other children and rarely spoke, probably because he didn't speak Japanese very well. Shuten, older, bossier, and nerdier, translated much of what went on for his younger brother.   
  
Yagami Kakeru is Hikari's son. Twelve years old, he's very quiet when not around his best friend Takaishi Mori, Takeru's son, who is cheerful enough to bring the more reserved Kakeru out of his shell. Kakeru's younger cousin is six-year-old Yagami Yuuki, Taichi's son.  
  
Even this isn't a good enough look at the children. But for now, it will suffice.  
  
---  
  
Koushirou hated funerals.  
  
He hated, hated, _hated_ funerals.  
  
Even he, who was normally oblivious to strong emotions, could pick up on the aura of sadness that dominated the room. Around him were dozens of men in dark suits and kimonos, women in dark blue and greys, looking oddly mismatched.  
  
He held Hitomi's hand. Hitomi was wearing a navy blue dress with yellow flowers embroidered. It wasn't very appropriate, but she didn't have any black. He let his eyes wander as the priest spoke in a nasal tone. He saw all of the other Chosen and their digimon -- even Daisuke and Mimi.   
  
Yamato and Sora were standing closer together than they normally would, each holding their childrens' hands. Taichi was talking to Takeru in a low voice, their faces solemn. Jyou and Iori had their faces set as they watched, not a tear dropping.  
  
Hikari was patting Daisuke on the shoulder. Daisuke, whose eyes were red-rimmed, who looked as though he might loose it at any moment. Mimi had tear tracks down her face as she attempted to comfort Miyako.   
  
Miyako was the center of attention today (well, she and the casket which held Ken's body), but for once she wasn't trying to revel in it. Clutching little Ari to her chest, she wore a practical black dress and had a black hat with a veil obscuring her features. The hat was so much like the one his mother had worn at his father's funeral that for a brief, giddy second he wondered whether it was one and the same, whether there was some secret society between all those widows...  
  
Her daughter Mikomi stood beside her. She obviously couldn't find a black dress; hers was a deep purple, and oddly pretty. On her other side was Osamu, in a suit so new the creases were still evident.  
  
The priest stopped chanting and nodded, the time for people who wanted to make speeches to come up and talk. Much to Koushirou's surprise, Iori walked up the the front of the crowded funeral room as if he was a puppet, with stiff, jerky steps and started to speak.  
  
"For a long time, Ichijouji Ken-san and I were...enemies. We despised each other. I couldn't understand him, and I suppose he couldn't understand me." Iori took a breath and went on. "Ken-san taught me a lot. He taught me to not judge someone by their first impression. He taught me to redefine my standards of 'good' and 'evil'...and that even people who appear to be villains can change."   
  
Iori swallowed. "For that, Ken-san...I thank you." He jerked his chin up and fixed his eyes to the ceiling. "I'll help protect Miyako-san and her children now that you're not able to. Thank you, everyone." He stepped down and rejoined his daughter and wife.  
  
Daisuke was next. His voice was ragged, his face tear-stricken, but he still managed to smile. "Ken, I...Ken's been my best friend for years. He probably knows -- knew -- knows me better than I know myself. I'll..." His smile was painful to watch. "You've always been there for me, Ken. I just wish...I wish I could have stopped you from falling this last time."  
  
It was at this point that Ichijouji Mikomi stalked out, and at this point that Izumi Koushirou, dropping Hitomi's hand, followed her. Hitomi looked at her father's retreating back, shrugged, clutched Motimon tighter, and waited for her father to come back.  
  
---  
  
He found her pacing down the hall, making noises that could have been sobs; however, when she turned to face him, her eyes were dry.  
  
"What?" she demanded.  
  
Koushirou found out that he'd frozen solid. Her stance, her voice, even the indignant flash in her bespectacled eyes was so much like Miyako that it stopped him in his tracks.  
  
He'd never paid much attention to Miyako when he'd first met her; she'd been an underclassmen, just another girl in the Computer Club whose work was all right at best and whose voice had a way of piercing through his innermost analyzations. He'd been surprised when she became a Chosen, but accepted that the Fates worked in mysterious ways and welcomed her to the team.  
  
After they'd worked together for a while, he found that he was inexplicably drawn to the girl. Maybe it was because Miyako was so emotional, as opposed to his own cool rationality. Maybe it was her strange, magnetic warmth that just emanated from her -- after spending just a little time in her presence, you couldn't help but be drawn out.   
  
Maybe it was just love, pure and simple. But computer geniuses didn't just fall in love, it would be like not testing your HTML coding before uploading it onto a website.  
  
"What, mister?" snapped Mikomi, and Koushirou felt his mind unfreeze. Miyako had never addressed him by 'mister' -- it had always been 'Izumi-sempai' in their elementary school days, a warmer 'Koushirou' while they had been dating, and now a distant 'Koushirou-san.'  
  
"I wanted to know if you were all right," Koushirou explained lamely. "You ran out so quickly, I wondered if something was the matter."  
  
Mikomi rolled her eyes -- eyes that, he could see, were a light brown (like Miyako's) with a hard gleam to them (like Ken's.) "No, nothing's the matter," she threw back at him, "except my father dying, duh. What do you think is wrong with me?!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Koushirou said instantly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"  
  
"Help?" she echoed. "Help? Tell that to the guy who..." Mikomi swiftly removed her glasses with one hand and covered her eyes with the other. Koushirou felt helpless as she suffered through her misery in short, jolting sobs.  
  
He patted her on the shoulder awkwardly. She took her hand away from her eyes -- Koushirou noticed the wetness on her hand -- and glared at him.  
  
"Why are they making this into a public spectacle?" she demanded. "Some emotions should be kept inside!"  
  
_Yet another difference from Miyako_, Koushirou thought. Miyako never thought anything should be kept inside. Miyako always wanted everything out in the open.  
  
Miyako never realized when anything should be hidden, even for her own good.  
  
"It's how some people mourn," Koushirou said, not removing his hand. "Some people need to have their emotions out in the open. It's how they exist. It's how they mourn."  
  
"It's too public," declared Mikomi, "it makes me sick."  
  
"That's your prerogative."  
  
She peered at him oddly. "Did my mother send you?"  
  
"No!" Koushirou lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "I came because you looked sad, and I wanted to know if I could be of service to you in some way. I'm not really one for strong emotions, but I can listen."  
  
Mikomi glanced up and down at him, with a look so much like Miyako's that it took his breath away. "You're Izumi Koushirou, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"My mother used to date you." Her voice was clinical, probing.  
  
"That was a long time ago," he responded.  
  
"Yes." She blinked. "You want me to talk?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Okay." She took in a breath, and spoke in a high-pitched chatter about what she felt, her sincerity dripping from every phrase. Koushirou's ears took in her voice and made sense of her words. At the end, tears were running down her face.  
  
"Ken-san meant a lot to you, didn't he?" Koushirou asked gently. Mikomi nodded. "You were close?" Another nod. "You have the advantage over me, then," Koushirou said. "My parents died when I was a baby, I never knew them."  
  
"How horrible!" said Mikomi. "But surely, you heard stories..."  
  
"I didn't know I was adopted until I was older. My finding out was...pretty traumatic."  
  
"I can imagine."  
  
"I want to avoid that with my own daughter," he added.  
  
"Oh? Was she adopted?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But aren't you married?"  
  
He smiled. "No. Confirmed bachelor for life, I'm afraid."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"But...you have the advantage of me, as I said before. You know what your father would want of you. You know what he believes, what he feels, how he feels."  
  
"So..I could dedicate my life to him, and be the best I can for his honor."  
  
"That's a decision you'll have to make for yourself," he said.  
  
Mikomi mulled over her passionate words. They had appeal, but... "But...then where is room for being myself?"  
  
"There's the problem with dedicating yourself to being someone for someone -- anyone else. You lose yourself on the way, and anything you wanted to be."  
  
"Then how am I supposed to do anything for my father?" Mikomi cried out. "I can't mourn like _they_ did..."  
  
"Well, when Ken needed to mourn," Koushirou said, his black eyes gazing off into the distance, "he was able to confess."  
  
Mikomi blinked. "In his digimon?"  
  
"No, to someone even closer to his heart."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Koushirou shook his head. "That's not important. What is important, Mikomi, is: do you have any friends that you can tell your heart to?"  
  
Mikomi bit her lip. "I...I don't know."  
  
"I'd advise you get some." An enigmatic smile flitted across Koushirou's face. "They're closer to you than you think. Now, we should go in, your mother will be worried." He offered out his arm, and, puzzled, Mikomi took it.  
  
"Hey...Izumi-san?" she asked right before they entered.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"How come...how come you never got married?" Mikomi asked timidly. "I mean, you aren't ugly, and you are pretty rich, so...why?"  
  
He smiled down at her. "I never got over your mother," he joked. It sounded like a joke, his tone was light enough, his mouth was smiling. Nevertheless, Mikomi saw the flash of pain in his onyx eyes and knew instantly that he was not kidding, that he still was not over her mother, that he still loved her.  
  
_How?_ wondered Mikomi. More to the point,_ why?_ And that question occupied her for the rest of the funeral...and a good deal while longer.   
  
---

And thus ends the first part. ^_^ I'm so thrilled to finally be uploading this...I know this part seems a little cliched, and I apologize to any Ken fans who want to kill me -- I do like him, but...with the plot idea I was given, it was either him dying or running off to Tahiti with Daisuke...which just isn't in-character with him, while it's in-character for him to...uh...die...um. I'll have to think about this. ^_^;; Don't worry, though. Ken's presence makes itself known, especially in the last few parts. 

Now! Review! C'mon, you're so close to the review box...I know you want to...or, you can not use the review box and e-mail me directly at [][1]Rbooks5678@aol.com! The next part will be uploaded soon, I promise! ^_^

   [1]: mailto:Rbooks5678@aol.com



	2. Part 2

::squeals:: Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed! ^_^ I'm so glad that people are taking the time to read this story, I've worked so hard on it, and for sooo long. -_- I read and treasure every single review I get, and I'll store the flames to keep me warm in the long, cold winter months. ^_-

Moshi-moshi - the Japanese way of saying 'hello' on the phone. 

Disclaimer: It's gonna be a shocker, I know, but I don't own Digimon. It's taken me a long time to be reconciled to this fact. I will be strong, though...I will survive! ^_-

**Kirai ni Narenai ~I Can't Hate You~  
Part Two  
by Rb**

Ichijouji Miyako -- formerly Inoue -- just wanted to collapse. The funeral process and turned out to be longer than she'd expected.   
  
Miyako had never buried a relative. She'd never personally participated in a funeral. She'd always been the person baking foods and comforting the relatives. She'd never been on the other side.  
  
Now that she did know how it felt to bury a loved one, she thought that she could have lived without it. She felt as though her heart had overloaded and was now on 'hold'. She was past pain and into a strange state where all that she wanted to do was sleep.  
  
Sleep wasn't going to come yet, though. Her siblings and the other Chosen were all still in her apartment, and showed no sign of leaving. Everyone was crammed together, talking, making sounds that meant nothing.  
  
Iori had come up to her and told her privately that if she needed anything -- even to go to the grocery store -- she was to ask him and his family for anything that she needed, anything at all. Since he lived in the same apartment building as her, she was sure that he wouldn't delay.   
  
Hikari had added to this by actually moving into her apartment for the week of mourning, along with her son, Kakeru. Hikari was even taking off from work, using her sick leave, just so that she could be there for Miyako in that first week.  
  
But she had so many pressing problems that not even her friends' support could help her. Most pressing was the problem of money. When she'd married Ken, she'd been happy to be a housewife...but it left her without vital skills or a sizeable chunk of money to rely on.

"What am I going to do?" she pleaded when she recognized the figures of Hikari, Mimi, and Sora nearby. "What's going to happen to my children and me?"  
  
"Shh," said Sora, "we'll think of something."  
  
"Ken's pension just isn't enough to support us!" Miyako wailed -- quietly, because she didn't want her children to hear.   
  
"You can work as a teacher's aide in my school," said Hikari instantly.  
  
"You can help me design clothing, you've got such a knack for style!" suggested Sora.  
  
"I'll send you part of my check every month," Mimi declared, "Carl makes enough."  
  
"I can't be indebted to you..." Miyako said through a fresh haze of tears. "I couldn't...I'm not trained..."  
  
"Perhaps you could work for me," suggested a cool, masculine voice.  
  
The four women looked up to see Izumi Koushirou casually leaning on a chair, his black eyes piercing yet gentle as they locked on Miyako.  
  
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your dilemnia, Miyako-san." Miyako felt his eyes settle on her, like twin laser beams. "I'm always looking for skilled workers, and if I remember correctly, you have a degree in computer science."  
  
"That's right," said Miyako uneasily. "But it's pretty much obsolete now, with all the new technology, and I haven't been keeping up..."  
  
He went on as if he hasn't heard her. "I need an assistant to help me go through my research, preferably one as intimately connected to the digital world as myself. Someone who understands the problems of the digital world, and the history." Miyako wished he would look away, but still he held her captive in his gaze. "I would be able to train you up the skill level required in only a few weeks, and I could pay you a reasonable salary." He named a figure, which made Hikari gasp.  
  
"Koushirou-san, that's too much!" Miyako protested fuzzily.  
  
"That's the same salary any young programmer would get as a starting salary," he shrugged. "So, do we have a deal?"  
  
"I...I'll have to sleep on it," Miyako said. "Can I...can you girls help me get to bed?" Miyako felt so weak she didn't think she could move. Koushirou, his face a mask of concern, swiftly moved out of the way as Sora and Hikari supported her on her way to her room.  
  
Once in her room, Sora prepared to pull back the covers on the big Western-style bed Miyako'd once shared with Ken. "No," Miyako protested feebly. "I...the futon."  
  
Hikari realized instantly. "Miyako's been sleeping on the futon, not the bed," she informed Sora.   
  
"I don't feel well..."  
  
Hikari rummaged in the dresser drawers and found a t-shirt and old pair of shorts. Between Sora and herself, they managed to get Miyako undressed and redressed in the new clothing. It was Ken's clothing, his faint scent clinging to the outfit still, but Miyako was in no mood to protest.   
  
Her second-to-last thought, before being enfolded in the soft arms of sleep, was _why is Koushirou offering me such a job?_  
  
Her last thought was _why do I care?  
_  
---  
  
Izumi Koushirou looked after Miyako's retreating figure with concern. "I hope she'll be all right," he muttered to himself.  
  
He wasn't sure why he'd offered her a job. He'd known that he needed to hire an assistant -- Iori's unintentional jibe about taking a day off still stung. He hadn't meant to offer Miyako the job, however...  
  
_That would bring us into too close contact, _he thought._ Daily. We'd have to work together...it would be too awkward. _  
  
But she'd looked so weak and pale, still in her black mourning clothing. He wanted to help her _somehow_...  
  
He was interrupted from his thoughts by a pair of slender female arms wrapping themselves tightly around his chest.  
  
"Ehh?!"  
  
"Koushie-kun!" gushed a high-pitched female voice that he recognized as Tachikawa Mimi. "I'm so proud of you! You're no longer icky sludge-slime!"   
  
"Mimi, you shouldn't hug people like that, it'll make your boyfriend of the month -- "  
  
"Husband, and his name is Carl -- "  
  
" -- jealous, and -- hey, since when have I been icky sludge-slime?"  
  
Mimi had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Well, at various times... it started back when you were dating Miyako."  
  
"You weren't even in the country when I was dating Miyako!"  
  
"Koushirou, Koushirou, Koushirou." Mimi shook her head in amusement. "You're so blind, aren't you? Haven't you realized by now that when you date a woman, you're actually dating five or six women?"  
  
"Actually, Mimi, I never realized that at all. Please, explain?"  
  
Mimi ticked off her points on her fingers. "Well, there's the girl you're dating, and then there's three or four of her closest friends, and she'll dissct every point of your psyche with them, and then there's the girl's mother, who has to give final approval...now, the actual number varies, depending on how many close friends the girl has and if she has sisters, but still, the point is...Koushirou? Are you listening?"  
  
"How much...is dissected with her friends?" Koushirou asked with a slightly glazed look.  
  
"In general or specific?"  
  
"Miyako, in specific."  
  
"Lots," Mimi grinned.  
  
"..."  
  
"Nothing _that_ bad...although, Koushirou, I don't think it's healthy to call out the name of your computer during -- "  
  
Koushirou's eyes crossed. "I never!"  
  
Mimi winked. "Lighten up, Koushie-kun."  
  
Koushirou gave her a very dry look.  
  
"All right, then, don't. But still. That was a very sweet thing you offered, Koushirou. I'm proud of you."  
  
"Mm," Koushirou said, still looking slightly shell-shocked.  
  
She patted him on the shoulder. "There, there. It's a truth every guy must learn at some point or another."  
  
---  
  
A few days later, Yagami Hikari, Hida Iori, and Ichijouji Miyako sat around Miyako's kitchen table, drinking coffee. Osamu and Ari were not yet awake, while Mikomi had locked herself in her room. Himeko and Kakeru didn't have the same excuse from school that Miyako's children did.  
  
Miyako mentioned Koushirou's job offer to Iori. Instantly, Iori's eyes hardened.  
  
"Don't take it," he said.  
  
"Why not?" Hikari asked, surprised. "It sounds perfectly reasonable to me..."  
  
"You don't need a job yet," Iori told her, "you'll be fine -- I'll help."  
  
"It would be nice just having something to do," Miyako fretted.  
  
Iori wrinkled his nose. "I don't think it would be proper, getting a job so soon -- my mother didn't work for a year after my father's death."  
  
"That was in the nineties. This is 2028," Hikari objected.  
  
"Still. And I'd prefer you didn't work for Koushirou-san."  
  
"Why not?" asked Hikari. Miyako also looked up, surprised.  
  
Iori got a grim look on his face. "I can't forgive how Koushirou-san didn't show up for Ken-san when Ken-san was in the hospital."  
  
"Iori," Hikari frowned, "Koushirou explained to us all that he was taking a day off. He wasn't near his computer at all. He couldn't answer your e-mails."  
  
"But..." Iori bit his lip. "Koushirou-san's vid-phone, the one he used to answer my phone call, beeps whenever he receives an e-mail. I've been with him when it happened. He could have checked his e-mail if he wanted to. But he didn't."  
  
"That's not his fault."  
  
"I know, but...I just feel like he should have been able to sense that this time, he should have checked his e-mail."  
  
A silence descended in the room.  
  
"Anyway, I've got to go," Iori said. He gave Miyako a hug and shook Hikari's hand awkwardly before leaving.   
  
"What do you think, Hikari?" Miyako asked the younger woman.  
  
Hikari thought for a moment. "Well, I think Iori has to lighten up a bit. I also think that it might be a bit awkward for you to work with Koushirou."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Hikari gave her friend a long look. "Miyako-chan," she said, using the childhood term of endearment, "I've listened to you complain for fifteen minutes straight elaborating on how he's a cold, idiotic, utterly stupid computer genius who wouldn't know the meaning of the word 'love' if it bit him on the -- "  
  
"Hikari!"  
  
" -- and who apparently has a computer disk drive stuck up his -- "  
  
"Hikari!"  
  
" -- and -- "  
  
"Hikari, my children might be listening!" Miyako snapped.  
  
Hikari laughed. "You've always been a very frank speaker, Miyako. I admire that about you."  
  
"As long as you don't repeat my words in front of my children," Miyako replied demurely.   
  
"I wouldn't dream of it." She cocked her head to one side. "But, Miyako -- you will have to make a decision about Koushirou's work."  
  
"Do you think I should work for him?"  
  
"Logically?" Hikari shrugged. "You need money. Koushirou's going to give you money. That works out. Koushirou needs to get away from work once in a while -- that's a given. You might be able to help with that. But..."  
  
"Hikari, if you have a problem -- any problem at all -- you should definitely tell me. I'll regret not listening to you later. I always do."  
  
Hikari sighed. On her pretty face was The Look, an expression peculiar to Hikari that Miyako privately thought did not belong on any mortal's face.  
  
"I'm not sure," she confessed. "It seems like a good idea, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "I have doubts. Be honest, Miyako. It's up to you. You should answer him. Not me, not Iori...not anyone, really."  
  
"I guess."  
  
Hikari smiled. "How about you e-mail Koushirou, we wake up your children, and I treat you guys to a day out on the town?"  
  
"Oh, would you? I'm so tired of being stuck in this apartment all day, and I know Mikomi is, too."  
  
Hikari got up and gave Miyako a hug. "I knew you'd want a day out. Write the e-mail, and it's a sure thing."  
  
"Okay!"  
  
---  
  
Izumi Koushirou was looking over piles of data when the computer beeped at him.  
  
"I've got mail," he said, surprised. He opened his mailbox and retrieved the new message. "From Miyako?"  
  
He swore after finishing it.  
  
"Damn. I really hoped that she'd work with me, too."  
  
He sighed, deleted the letter, and went back to work.  
  
---  
  
It's time for a history lesson. While both of the principle characters would insist this short is 'ancient history', with the amount of times both of them think of What Happened, it's really 'current events'.  
  
When Izumi Koushirou was twenty-two and Inoue Miyako was twenty-one, they lived together in an apartment, and had done so since Miyako entered college. Koushirou was out of college already and beginning to start making a name for himself. Miyako was in her final year.  
  
They had a steady relationship. They weren't entirely gushy-gushy, but they did care about each other.   
  
Something had changed, though. Maybe Koushirou had gotten too wrapped up in his work. Maybe Miyako had gotten tired of _knowing_ Koushirou cared, but never being _told_ that he cared.  
  
So a flaming row ensured, neither party admitting that they were wrong because both knew that they were right, that the other side was in the wrong. Miyako _knew_ that Koushirou was really a heartless creep, and Koushirou _knew_ that Miyako was being over-emotional and melodramatic. Because both were right and both were wrong, nothing ever got solved.   
  
Koushirou, being Koushirou, buried himself in his work and didn't bother to look up as Miyako, being Miyako, drafted most of the other Chosen into a makeshift support group. Some, specifically Taichi, Yamato, Jyou, and Daisuke, refused to get involved, but most of the others enthusiasticly tried to cheer her up.  
  
One of these 'others' was Ichijouji Ken, who was having some personal crises of his own. They renewed their friendship and grew closer, and closer...  
  
...and then Ken proposed, and Miyako accepted, and they had a fairy-tale wedding (which Koushirou attended, with a suitably bright smile on his face, wishing them well), and they had three beautiful children, while Koushirou became rich and famous through his work and, although remaining a bachelor, adopted a wonderful little girl, and life moved on, as life does, slipping through the streams of time.   
  
If one car driver hadn't been upset, and if Ken had been a little more careful, then the car accident wouldn't have happened, and Ken wouldn't have died, and this really would have remained history. But they didn't, so it's not.   
  
Sometimes, history decides that if you don't pay attention to it soon, it's gonna bite you on the rear.  
  
---  
  
Hida Iori, with a sigh, unlocked the file titled 'Ichijouji Ken'.  
  
About six months before, Ken had come to Iori and asked him to help write a will. Iori had agreed. Ken may have had a traumatic experience with death at an early age, but out of all of the Chosen, Iori had had the first experience with death.   
  
Death held few secrets for Iori. The thought had often come to him that he was destined to be the layer-out of bodies, the one who sorted out the deceased's secrets and laid the last matters to rest. The thought gave him no pleasure at all.  
  
It was true, however, that many people kept their wills with Iori because he was so trustworthy and solemn. Ken was no exception.  
  
Along with the will itself were several items that Ken had sealed away. Iori hadn't looked at them. Iori had tremendous strength of will. Iori had never looked at anyone's private documents, alive or dead.  
  
Iori started by looking through the will. It _seemed_ to be in order...  
  
Huh. Ken had divided his savings into portions, trust funds for his three children, for Miyako...for _Daisuke?_...for..._what was _that_?_  
  
"Any future children of Inoue Miyako's."  
  
Was that an insinuation that Miyako should be remarried?   
  
Then there were photographs, mostly taken by Hikari. His children, his family. His brother. There were pictures of all of the other Chosen, at various ages ranging from teen to adult, with one exception: there were no pictures of Daisuke in there, not in a group, not by himself. Iori's brow furrowed. He had never remembered the two of them being anything less than the best of friends. Ken had left money for Daisuke as well: was that out of loyalty to a best friend, a peace offering to an enemy, or something else?   
  
Hmm. Not his business.  
  
Some things were still left. A sheaf of papers had "burn these" written in Ken's elegant script across the top. Iori glanced through them and realized, with a chill, that they were the computer codes he had used to design the dark rings and the evil spirals. He placed the papers in a folder and put them aside.  
  
Finally, there were three large, padded, sealed envelopes. At this point, Iori wasn't surprised at all to see that one had 'Motomiya Daisuke' written on it. The second was addressed to Koushirou. Iori blinked in surprise.  
  
The third was addressed to -- himself. Huh.  
  
Using a letter opener, he carefully slit open the envelope. A single sheet of paper fell out.  
  
Iori picked it up and began to read.  
  
A few minutes later, he reread it.  
  
Then he read over it again.  
  
He'd been brought up to respect the dead and to be considerate of everyone's feelings. He was the type of person who wouldn't even insult politicians, in fear that he would hurt their feelings. He thought that gossip pages were for those with too much time on their hands, and chastised his wife and daughter if they would ever talk idly of others in front of him.  
  
He hated thinking badly of others. He'd learned, over time, that misconceptions cut both ways, that it was better to learn about people rather than judge them unjustly.   
  
Hida Iori, like Koushirou before him, was the type of person who was constantly looking for the sense and logic to the universe. The only real difference between Koushirou and Iori, in fact, was that while Koushirou would stop at nothing in his pursuit of the truth, Iori often let his respect for others get in the way.  
  
This was the reason why Iori was married in his early twenties and had a daughter long before Koushirou even thought about trying to get over Miyako, much less succeed.   
  
In this case...  
  
"Ken-san, what do you expect me to do with this information?" Iori asked the empty space in front of him. Stupid, really. He'd never believed in ghosts, not even when it could have helped him.  
  
There was no answer. Iori sighed. He hadn't really had expected there to be an answer, anyway.  
  
---  
  
Hida Iori knocked on the door to Miyako's apartment. Mikomi opened the door.  
  
"Hello, Mikomi," he said, smiling. "How are you?"  
  
"Fine," she said. "Mom's inside, talking to Aunt Hikari." She stood aside and let Iori pass.   
  
Iori walked into the kitchen. Miyako looked up happily. "Hey, Iori!"  
  
"Miyako-san. Hikari-san," Iori said, inclining his head. He'd always found that formality helped when confronted with difficult situations. The familiarity in the words soothed him. "Miyako-san, you're going to work for Koushirou-san, correct?"   
  
"Well, actually -- " Miyako started, but Iori gave her no time to complete her sentence.  
  
"When you next see him, please give him this." Iori handed her the padded envelope.  
  
Miyako's eyes narrowed as she recognized Ken's elegant script. "Ken sent Koushirou a letter?"  
  
"It was meant to be read only after Koushirou's death, by Koushirou's eyes only. Since you'll no doubt see Koushirou before I do, please give it to him."  
  
"Did Ken leave any other letters?" Miyako asked archly.  
  
"He...sent one to Daisuke," Iori said finally, unwilling to lie to his oldest friend, unwilling to tell her about Ken's letter to himself. Miyako would no doubt press him, and Iori didn't want to be pressed. Didn't want to tell her the contents. Didn't want to have to admit Ken's secrets.  
  
Miyako's eyebrow twitched. "Is that all you're going to tell me, Iori?"  
  
"Yes," Iori said. _Finally! A full-truth!  
_  
"Iori," Hikari said, her forehead wrinkling, "what did Ken leave behind?"  
  
Iori bit his lip. "A lot of photographs," he said finally. "I left it in my office tonight, I haven't finished going through everything. I'll give it to you, Miyako-san, when I can."  
  
"All right," said Miyako, although unconvinced. After some more conversation, Iori excused himself and went to his own apartment.  
  
His wife Reika was talking to Himeko, his daughter. Silently, he gave Himeko a hug and kissed Reika.  
  
"Is something the matter, Papa?" Himeko asked.  
  
He gave his family a small, wan smile. "I just wanted you both to know how much I love you."  
  
---  
  
The next day, Ichijouji Miyako knocked fiercely on the door to the Izumi household. A much older woman opened the door.   
  
"What do you want?" asked the woman kindly.  
  
"I need to talk to Koushirou-san," she said.  
  
"All right...he's in his room. Go straight, up the stairs, fifth door on the left."  
  
Miyako nodded 'thank you' and followed the woman's -- normally, she would have recognized her as Koushirou's mother, but Miyako was far too upset to notice -- instructions. _Man, Koushirou has a huge house_, she thought.  
  
She knocked on the door. "Come in," called a distracted male voice, so she did.   
  
Koushirou was sitting on his bed, skimming through a sheaf of papers.  
  
"Koushirou-san," she said frostily.  
  
Koushirou _jerked_ upright and stared at the woman. "Miyako-san? What are you doing?" Automatic good manners took over, and he jumped up and indicated a chair. "Please, sit down."  
  
"I prefer to stand." She opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. "This was my husband's gift to you."  
  
"What?" said Koushirou, wrinkling his forehead as he stood up and took the envelope. It was a heavy, padded envelope with 'Izumi Koushirou' written elegantly on the front.  
  
Koushirou slit open the envelope and let the contents slither out onto his bed. A rather cheap, empty picture frame with no picture inside, just the glass covering a cardboard backing. A letter, addressed to Koushirou. A small diskette.  
  
Koushirou picked up the letter and read it with no change in expression. "Did your husband...Ken-san...have any other envelopes like this?"  
  
"There was one for Daisuke."  
  
"Was there any envelope for you?"  
  
She stiffened. "Ken told me everything he thought I needed to know."  
  
"All right."  
  
Miyako moved a step closer. "What's in the letter, Koushirou-san?"  
  
"Nothing addressed to you."  
  
"Tell me what's in the letter, Koushirou-san."  
  
"I thought Ken told you everything you needed to know," Koushirou replied coolly.  
  
If Koushirou's tone had been cool, Miyako's was ice. "Ken told me everything he _thought _I needed to know. I want to see what he didn't think I should know."  
  
They were physically close now, closer than they'd ever been since that fight the night that what they'd had had been destroyed.  
  
Koushirou raised his hand -- Miyako flinched on instinct, thinking for one horrible instant that he'd lost his temper -- and touched one hand to a chain she hadn't noticed he'd been wearing. On the end was a single key.  
  
He took off the chain and, picking up the envelope's contents, unlocked a door in his room, opened it, and walked through. After a moment's hesitation, Miyako followed.  
  
Koushirou was busy logging into the computer. After a few minutes, he inserted the file that Ken had left him and typed furiously for a while.  
  
"Thought so," he said in a satisfied manner, flicked off the monitor, and turned around.  
  
"What is it?" Miyako asked.  
  
"It's Ken's memoirs."  
  
"I want to see them," Miyako said instantly.  
  
"Ah, but see, there's a problem." He wagged a finger. Miyako swore that she could see a smirk growing on his face. "The memoirs are code-locked. Only someone with a password can get inside. And right now, the only two people who know the password are myself...and Ken."  
  
"Is it on the paper?"  
  
"No. It was in my head."   
  
"Oh. So, let me see them."  
  
Koushirou shook his head. "It's a little more complicated than that. See, Ken's letter made it clear that it was my duty to not let you read his memoirs until the mourning year is up."  
  
"What?" snapped Miyako. "He was my husband! I have a right to -- "  
  
" -- to do what, Miyako-san? Disrespect the dead's wishes?" asked Koushirou silkily. Miyako froze. "Now, as I see it, you have one choice."  
  
"What is it?" Miyako asked, knowing she was falling into Koushirou's trap but unable to stop herself.  
  
A lupine smile. "Stay in my good graces for the next year."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I'm choosing to interpret that as an exclamation of delight. I'll see you in my office at nine o'clock Monday morning for your first day at work, Miyako-kun."  
  
"You -- !" Miyako crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd rather not know what was in Ken's memoirs than have to work for you."  
  
"I don't think so, Miyako-kun," Koushirou whispered. With a surprisingly swift movement, he reached out with one hand and touched the area right under her collarbone with his fingertips. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture, bordering on the edges of...  
  
_No. It's friendship. It's got to be friendship. He's trying to restart our friendship, and this is the only way he knows how._  
  
"Your heart thrives on curiosity," Koushirou continued in the same soft tone, trying hard not to concentrate on how he could feel her heartbeat racing, on how his own heartbeat felt even faster. "Just like my own. You will work for me, because you do need the money, you do need something to do...but most of all, because you have a burning, shall I say, desire, to know what's in those memoirs. And you will work."  
  
_What am I doing? Her husband's not even been buried for a few days..._  
  
Slightly embarrased, Koushirou let her go.   
  
"How do I know you'll let me see what's in them?" Miyako asked, trembling inside but refusing to let Koushirou see the power he held over her.  
  
"The only thing you can trust...is my honor. And my word. And I have never, ever, ever lied to you." The irony in his words was not lost on her. "See you at work, Miyako-kun."  
  
In a huff, Miyako left.  
  
Koushirou sank down on the floor and gripped handfuls of his red hair in his hands fiercely, as if he wanted to rip them out.  
  
---  
  
Over the weekend Koushirou was in a state of panic. He thought he managed to hide it well, but he only managed to convince his mother he was going insane. His worry showed itself in a variety of ways -- the way he kept tapping his foot and drumming his fingers, how his eyes darted around, and that he kept seeming to wait for something. Not even Tentomon's arrival on Sunday, with the promise of new and vital information, could make him focus.  
  
Koushirou wondered if Miyako would even go to work on Monday. He'd practically blackmailed her...if their situations were reversed, would _he_ work for _her_?_  
_  
He squashed down his visceral reaction. It wasn't helping.  
  
The phone rang Sunday evening. Koushirou practically killed himself getting it set up. "Moshi moshi?" he asked.  
  
The screen cleared to reveal Miyako's pensive face. "Koushirou-san?"  
  
"Miyako-kun?" He couldn't help himself, the -kun suffix slipped right out. Her eyes flared with a momentary anger, then burned themselves out.  
  
"It's about me working for you. I'm don't think I can."  
  
Koushirou's heart sunk. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Well...the problem is, I have no one to watch my children while I work."  
  
"Couldn't Mikomi watch her siblings? She seems responsible enough."  
  
Miyako snorted. "Mikomi has to go to school all day. Osamu's class lets out at noon, and there's no way she could bring Ari to her classes."  
  
Koushirou's lips pursed in thought. "Well...my mother watches Tori and Touma most days after their classes let out. They play with Hitomi. Why couldn't you bring Ari over in the mornings, I'll drive you to work, when Osamu gets out of class he'll go to my house with Hitomi and the others, and when you end work you'll come back to my house and pick up your children? Mikomi could stay with Iori's family, or go straight home."  
  
Miyako blinked. "That's a very...elaborate plan."  
  
"Or, you could keep Ari with you at work, but I'm not sure how distracting he would be. Whenever I bring Hitomi to work, I can't concentrate at all on what I'm doing, I keep watching her."  
  
"You, not be able to concentrate?" Miyako couldn't hold back a smirk.  
  
Koushirou frowned. "I'm not a total workaholic, Miyako-kun." This time, the -kun was deliberately intended.  
  
"Really," Miyako said, rolling her eyes.  
  
Koushirou bit back a brilliant retort along the lines of 'shut up.'   
  
"I'd prefer to keep Ari with me. Could I also bring Hawkmon? Hawkmon's so good with the kids!"  
  
Koushirou kept his eyes from crossing at the thought of Hawkmon as a baby-sitter. "Sure. Tentomon works with me. We can always use another pair of hands -- or wings, whatever."  
  
Miyako hesitated. "Are you sure your mother won't mind me leaving Osamu with her?"  
  
"Nah. She loves kids. She always wanted a house full of them."  
  
"Oh." Another pause. "Koushirou-san...why are you doing this?"  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"Being so nice to me. Giving me this job. Offering to give me rides to work and letting me leave my children with you -- what are you doing this for? What's your interest in me?"  
  
Koushirou was at a loss. It wouldn't sound right, he knew, to say "so that you'll smile again," or "because I care about what happens to you," although they _were _the truth and valid reasons. It ran deeper than those reasons, or any of the other hundreds of reasons he could give her. To tell her, though, would destroy him entirely. Especially if she screamed at him. Or even worse, laughed at him. The unpredictability of her emotions -- especially so soon after her husband's death -- fascinated and frightened Koushirou. He would not tell her.  
_  
Not yet, anyway.  
_  
"Because you're my friend," he said finally. "And because Ken died in a car accident. My biological parents died in a car accident. I guess I know exactly how it feels. I guess I want to help support you, because...I can. I know that my help can't replace Ken. But I want to try."  
  
Miyako smiled. "Thank you, Koushirou." After a second, she belatedly corrected herself and added the -san.  
  
"No problem," he said, not using her name, not wanting to remind her of their delicate relationship. They both hung up.  
  
Koushirou smiled.

---

At dinner on Sunday night, the remaining members of the Ichijouji family sat together. Hikari had gone back to her own apartment earlier that day, Kakeru in tow, and Iori was eating with his own family for what felt like the first time all week.   
  
It wasn't anything special, a warmed-up meatloaf and a salad, and the very emptiness of the meal -- the first family meal without Ken -- made it bittersweet.  
  
It was at this meal that Miyako announced that she was going to work tomorrow morning. "Mikomi, stay with Himeko and her family after school, and Osamu, you can go over Hitomi's house until I pick you up."  
  
"Okay," said Osamu. "Hitomi-chan's fun."  
  
Mikomi wasn't so easily pacified. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"I'm going to be training to work with computers," Miyako answered.  
  
"Where are you working?" Mikomi pressed.  
  
"I'm not sure of the title of the company, but my boss is Izumi Koushirou."  
  
"You're working with Izumi Koushirou?" Mikomi snapped.  
  
Miyako nodded. "He happens to be an old friend of mine."  
  
"An old _boy_friend," muttered Mikomi.  
  
"Mikomi!"  
  
"Sorry, Mother."  
  
"He offered me a job, and I'm grateful for it," Miyako said.   
  
Mikomi visibly changed tactics. "Do I have to go to Himeko's after school?"  
  
"I'd be happier if you did."  
  
"Why can't I stay home alone?"  
  
"I don't want you to."  
  
"What if Himeko goes to cram school? I don't want to go there."  
  
"You should, you know," Miyako said absently. "Your math grades could use some work. Pass the salad."  
  
Mikomi passed the salad and thought. She thought about her father, about her mother, about the look in Koushirou's eyes when he spoke about Miyako. Her mind, so sluggish when adding and subtracting fractions or listing the chief exports of Brazil, was extremely quick at calculating the nuances of emotions.  
  
Mikomi knew exactly what Koushirou was feeling. And she didn't like it one bit.  
  
---  
  
Koushirou had an easier time at his own house. He simply told his mother that the after-school play group would increase by one and told Hitomi that Ichijouji Osamu was going to come home with her after school for "a while."  
  
Hitomi didn't mind, because the word that always came to mind when she thought of Osamu-chan was "gentle." And Mrs. Izumi didn't mind, although her eyes widened a mite when she heard whom her son had just hired.   
  
All children think that their parents are idiots. Parents know this, and cultivate this myth carefully. After all, how else are kids supposed to develop any confidence in themselves?   
  
Although Izumi Koushirou was a brighter chap than most, he still underestimated the power of his mother's observation. Izumi Satoe never let on how much she knew about her son's life. After all, it would only discourage him.  
  
---


	3. Part 3

People, I get the feeling you don't love me very much...;_; 

Eh-heh-heh...I'm being melodramatic, I know, but..this fic has taken up so much of my life, and is the longest thing I've ever written...it's honestly a novel...^^;;...I really, really, really appreciate all forms of feedback, and I'd be extraordinarily happy if you reviewed this part and told me what you think. It's honestly not as cliched as it might have seemed in the first few parts...^^;;

Disclaimer: Digimon's not mine, but the music's pretty darn cool -- and I have about 250 illegal Digimon mp3s. Anyone want to trade? ^_^

**Kirai ni Narenai ~ I Can't Hate You  
Part Three   
by Rb**

Ichijouji Miyako couldn't remember her last time that she worked.  
  
She'd worked in her family's store throughout her youth, but that was different -- that was a chore, and if she didn't work she wouldn't get an allowance. During college, she'd often been a waitress when in need of some extra cash...  
  
...but this, this was very different.   
  
Miyako chose her clothing carefully. She wanted to look mature, and adult, and very, very, professional. She put on her brand-new, smart-looking suit, which was very chic -- Sora had really outdone herself. She studied herself in the mirror, and applied makeup with a practiced hand. How should she wear her hair?  
  
"You look like you're primping for a date," muttered Mikomi, dressed but with her hair rumpled and her glasses in one hand.   
  
"Mikomi! Get ready for school!" Miyako snapped, aghast at her daughter's ill-timed comment.   
  
Mikomi held up a hairbrush in answer, and started brushing out her own fine blue hair. "You didn't make breakfast this morning," she accused.  
  
"I'm sorry," Miyako said. "I'm running a little late. Couldn't you make breakfast?"  
  
Mikomi's answer was a wide-eyed stare.  
  
"I guess I have to teach you how to cook," Miyako sighed.   
  
"Do you really have to work?" Mikomi asked plaintively.  
  
"Mikomi, we've discussed this. Yes, I do."  
  
Mikomi started to brush her hair even more fiercely, as if attacking it. The dark blue strands clouded her face.  
  
"Mikomi..."  
  
"I'm hungry. I'll get some fruit. Himeko'll be here soon." Mikomi left, calling out her younger brother's name.  
  
Miyako bit her lip nervously, stared into the mirror for a bit longer, and pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail. Then she pulled it out and started brushing her hair again.  
  
She really should be making breakfast.  
  
She really should be ready to go.  
  
Instead, she started idly braiding some strands of her purple hair.  
  
It's funny how the mind occupies itself when you really don't want to think about something. You start thinking about something -- anything. Hairstyles. Shoes. Clothing.  
  
Not about the job. Not about the job. Never about the job. Never about Koushirou.  
  
Really.  
  
---  
  
Ichijouji Mikomi was actually glad when the doorbell rang. As she expected, Hida Himeko was on the other side.  
  
Mikomi often thought it really wasn't fair for one girl to be so _cute_. Himeko's dark hair fell perfectly straight to her shoulders, held back by her favorite headband. Her huge emerald eyes were complimented by the pastel green and blue dress she wore, and the pale yellow skin of her Upamon that she held in her hands just added to the effect. She was neat and accesorized and absolutely, teeth-gnashingly perfect.   
  
Mikomi was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt her father had gotten her on a business trip, white with 'I [heart] NYC' written in blocky English letters. Her blue hair fell in her face, practically covering her bespectacled eyes. She felt very underdressed.  
  
"Ah! Mikomi-chan!" Himeko squealed when she saw her. "Good morning!"  
  
"Good morning, Himeko-chan," Mikomi responded politely. "Osamu's almost ready...one second." She turned inwards. "OSAMU!" she yelled. "COME HERE!"  
  
Himeko delicately winced.  
  
Osamu appeared. "Hi, Oneesama, Himeko-san," he said gravely. "I was eating a banana."  
  
"We've gotta go to school now. Let's go," said Mikomi, helping him put on his shoes and adjusting his backpack. "Poromon! Minomon! C'mon!"  
  
The green worm-like digimon bounced into Osamu's arms just as Mikomi's pink feathered digimon fluttered around her shoulder.   
  
"Bye-bye, Mama!" called Osamu as they entered the hall and started on their way to school.  
  
---  
  
Ichijouji Miyako was in a panic. She looked through lists, shoveled through papers, and ran through mental data.  
  
How could I have forgotten to ask him? she cursed herself. Miyako, you *idiot!*  
  
"Hawkmon!" she yelled.  
  
"Yes, Miyako-san?" responded the bird digimon's voice. She couldn't see him.  
  
"Where are you?" she called back.  
  
"In Ari's room," he shouted. "I was about to find you, Miyako-san. It's an emergency!"  
  
The thought of her baby in trouble was too much to bear. Miyako jumped up and ran to Ari's room. Technically, it was also Osamu's room, and her other son's things littered half of the space.   
  
"What's wrong, Hawkmon?" Closer, she could hear Ari's amazingly loud screams, and wondered that she hadn't heard them farther away. _I must have been preoccupied_, she decided.  
  
"Your baby...stinks!" Hawkmon said, holding one wing in front of his beak.  
  
Miyako laughed. "He does not...oh, you're right." Miyako winced and checked Ari's diaper. She wasn't really surprised to see that it was entirely full. "Urk." Quickly, she changed Ari's diaper and dumped the used one in the trash.   
  
"Eeeyurgh," sniffed Hawkmon.   
  
Miyako glanced amusedly at her digimon partner. "You'd think after watching me raise three kids that you'd be used to something like diapers by now."  
  
Hawkmon glared back.  
  
"Kidding!" Miyako laughed. "Anyway, uh, Hawkmon...can you get me the phone?"  
  
Hawkmon nodded and left the room. While Miyako smoothed Ari's hair, Hawkmon located the portable vid-phone and handed it to Miyako.  
  
"Thanks," she said, and dialed up Koushirou.  
  
"Moshi moshi?" Koushirou responded, activating his vid-plate.   
  
"Ah...hi, Koushirou-san, this is Miyako." Miyako activated her own vid-plate, so that Koushirou could see her chagrined expression. "I was wondering...well...you never did give me directions on how to get to work."  
  
Koushirou stared blankly at the phone for a moment, then laughed. "You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry, Miyako-kun." He thought for a moment. "I'm about to drive Hitomi to school. How about I pick you up on the way back and drive you to work?"  
  
Miyako considered. It _seemed_ reasonable...and this way, she wouldn't have to go on the subway in rush hour. "All right."  
  
"See you in a few minutes, Miyako-kun."  
  
Miyako gritted her teeth as she turned off the phone. "I really hate how he calls me that."  
  
Hawkmon blinked. "Would you rather he called you Ichijouji-kun?"  
  
"Hawkmon..."  
  
"Or Miyako-chan..."  
  
"Hawkmon!"  
  
"Or Miyako-sama...would you prefer that?"  
  
Miyako blinked. "Hawkmon, you know that I love you dearly, and that you're my best friend in the entire world and all...but please, please, please shut up and let me finish getting ready."  
  
"Yes'm."  
  
---  
  
Ichijouji Osamu tended to notice things that no one else saw.  
  
He noticed how in the cracks between the sidewalks, there was almost always a little smudge of green fuzz and tiny, yet perfect flowers sprung forth there. How the veins on a leaf matched the blue veins on the back of his hand. How, when his eyes were tired and unfocused, he'd see little lines that shimmered back and forth, and little dots, red green blue, that no one else could ever seem to see.  
  
He could only talk about these things to Minomon, who understood them without explanation. He could explain these things to Hitomi-chan, explain for hours until his voice was raspy and tired, and even though Hitomi-chan didn't -- couldn't understand, she would listen and try, which was good enough.  
  
He could never explain these things to Tori-kun. Tori-kun was brash and loud, her blue eyes mean. He didn't _really _like her, but she was Hitomi-chan's friend, so he had to like her.  
  
Most of the time.  
  
His hearing faded in and out. He could control that. He couldn't control the noises outside, but he could control his receptiveness. He could hear the high-pitched voice of his older sister, the softer voice of that other girl, and the childlike voice of Minomon muttering in his ear. He heard sounds, he heard a lot of sounds. It was up to him to consciously interpret the sounds he kept hearing into actual words.  
  
It was like listening to the English music that his older sister insisted on blaring. Some of the syllables were familiar, but he couldn't even think of putting them into actual words that really meant anything.  
  
He didn't want to, because he knew that Oneesama and the other girl...his mind supplied a name...Himeko-san...would be arguing, and he didn't want to hear it. Himeko always wanted to talk, talk, talk and had even tried attempting talking to him, Osamu, but he simply deconstructed her words into syllables and from syllables to sounds until all she said was meaningless, like it always was. But he sighed, and adjusted himself so that the syllables made up words that really meant something again.  
  
"Osamu-chan," whispered Minomon, "are you all right?"  
  
"Ah, yeah," he whispered back.  
  
"The moron speaks," Mikomi said from above him. Osamu didn't mind. Oneesama often called him rude words. It was her way of showing affection, Mama had said once, and Osamu agreed.  
  
"Don't call your brother that," Himeko admonished. "It's rude." Osamu felt a rush of impatience for the dark-haired girl, unconsciously mirroring his sister's feelings. She didn't understand.  
  
"He's my brother, I'll call him whatever I want," Mikomi shot back.  
  
Himeko sniffed and readjusted her digimon, a pale yellow sleepy Upamon, in her arms. "By the way, Mikomi-chan, did I tell you?"  
  
"What is it, Himeko-chan?" Mikomi said tiredly.  
  
"You know that concert I'm going to be in two weeks, the one where I'm singing and playing the piano?"  
  
"No, I thought it was the one where you were going to be dancing in that big fancy ballet..."  
  
"Silly! That's next month! Anyway, the principal announced the news about my concert in front of the entire school! Isn't that totally cool?"  
  
"Thrilling."  
  
"Oh, look! There's Mori-kun and Kakeru-kun!"   
  
"Who would have guessed it, they're walking to school..." Mikomi muttered as Hitomi waved an arm.  
  
"Mori-kuuun! Kakeru-kuuun! Walk with us!"  
  
The two boys obligingly changed directions. Osamu happened to like Yagami Kakeru, who was kind and quiet. Sometimes, Osamu thought that Kakeru might understand the world the way Osamu did. Takaishi Mori was one of those that Osamu mentally classified as 'loud'. However, Kakeru seemed to see something good in him. Osamu kept a look out to see if it would ever appear.  
  
Himeko started talking enthusiastically to Mori about a soccer game she'd been to. "You looked totally cool!"   
  
"I know," replied Mori, smirking. Himeko laughed. Kakeru shook his head, smiling. Mikomi didn't smile. She dropped back behind the others. Kakeru matched her pace. Osamu saw this, and slowed down as well. Mikomi didn't notice, because Osamu was in invisible mode. He'd chosen so.  
  
"Hey, are you all right, Mikomi-chan?" Kakeru asked. Kakeru was a close friend of his sister's, Osamu knew. His smile always brightened her heart.  
  
Mikomi smiled wanly. "I guess I'm just a little stressed, Kakeru-kun."  
  
Kakeru carefully put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Don't worry, Mikomi-chan. It'll be all right, I'm sure."  
  
"Right. Thank you," she said formally.  
  
The school building approached. Himeko and Mori were the first up the steps, laughing and greeting other friends. Mikomi and Kakeru approached more slowly, Kakeru having removed his hand. Osamu tagged along behind them.  
  
Their first stop was the Digimon Day-Care center, where all digimon stayed during the day. No teachers allowed digimon in their classrooms, saying that the digimon were too distracting. The digimon were well-treated, most of them opting to sleep while their partners were in classes. Kakeru and Mori split off afterwards, Kakeru telling Mikomi he'd see her in class.  
  
"Daichi-kun says that in America, he's allowed to bring Chibimon to classes," Mikomi muttered as she handed over Poromon.  
  
"But Chibimon has to stay in his bag, like our parents' digimon used to," Himeko reminded her. "Can I walk Osamu-kun to kindergarden? He's so cute!"  
  
Osamu sent Mikomi a horrified look.  
  
"Er, no, I want to," Mikomi covered for her little brother quickly. "Ah, Himeko-chan, I'll meet you at our classroom, okay?"  
  
"O...kay." She waved goodbye to Osamu, then skipped off.  
  
Mikomi escorted Osamu to the kindergarden classroom. Yagami Hikari, his teacher, smiled at Mikomi and exchanged pleasantries with Mikomi before bending down to Osamu's level. Osamu liked Hikari very much. Like her son Kakeru, she was kind.  
  
"Hello, Osamu-kun. Are you glad to be back?"  
  
"Y-yes," Osamu nodded.  
  
"Hitomi-chan'll be here any moment. Want to wait with me?"  
  
Osamu nodded firmly.  
  
True to her word, Hitomi, with her father in tow, bounded up.  
  
"Hello, Hitomi-chan!" Hikari greeted, before turning to Koushirou. "So, today's Miyako's first day of work, huh?"   
  
Osamu waved at Hitomi, feeling shy. He hadn't seen his friend in a whole week!  
  
"Mm, yes." Koushirou looked at his watch. "Actually, I have to pick up Miyako right now."  
  
Hitomi giggled and waved back at Osamu. Osamu felt warm.  
  
A knowing smile appeared on Hikari's face. "Good luck, you," she said as Koushirou turned around.  
  
Koushirou jerked back and looked at Hikari in surprise. "Don't you mean to wish Miyako-kun good luck?" he said, his tone formal.  
  
Hikari shook her head and smiled.  
  
Hitomi reached out and grsped Osamu's hand. "C'mon! Let's play with the blocks!"  
  
Osamu gratefully followed.  
  
---  
  
Ichijouji Miyako was ready for work. She was prepared. She was in control. She was also about to kick Koushirou-SAN's stupid HEAD open if he took any LONGER getting to her apartment building!   
  
Hawkmon blinked his pale blue eyes at her. "Miyako-san, calm down."  
  
Miyako smiled at her partner. "I'm just a little anxious, Hawkmon." She wasn't sure if she caught some rude words being sputtered in the coughing fit that attacked her partner.  
  
Smiling, she shifted her sleeping baby's weight in her arms as she waited in front of her apartment. Ari slept peacefully. Leafmon was balanced in the sling around Hawkmon's neck. Hawkmon also carried a large portable carrier loaded with tons of baby-toys and necessities (diapers, bottles, pacifiers, food...)  
  
A large black car pulled up in front of the apartment and parked. The driver opened the door and walked out. Miyako easily recognized Koushirou's red hair.  
  
"Miyako-kun?"   
  
"Here," Miyako answered.  
  
His face broke into a genuine smile when he saw her. "Ah, there you are." He gestured towards his car. "Get in!"   
  
Miyako started walking. Hawkmon called out piteously, "Miyako-san..."  
  
"What is it, Hawkmon?"  
  
"I can't move..."  
  
Miyako stopped herself from tripping and falling face-forward on the pavement just in time.  
  
"Here, let me," said Koushirou. He easily lifted up the baby things and brought it to the car. "I'll put it in the back. Tentomon's already there."  
  
"And quite happy where he is, thank you very much," came Tentomon's voice.  
  
"Relax, old friend," Koushirou grinned as he stuffed the baby supplies in the door, then showed Hawkmon where to sit. "Miyako-kun, you get the passenger seat."  
  
Once settled in the car, she noticed him looking at her -- whether appreciative or puzzled, she couldn't tell.  
  
"Hey, Koushirou-san...like my outfit?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.   
  
Koushirou blushed guiltily as he realized he was staring. _Appreciative_, decided Miyako, grinning, not sure whether to be upset or amused. Or both.  
  
"It's...nice." The blush faded instantly, and now his stare was analytical. Too bad.   
  
"Sora designed it."  
  
"Sora's very skilled."   
  
Miyako was surprised at his words -- an outright compliment, very rare from Koushirou, and the lack of the formality -- _is he _that_ close to Sora? _  
  
"It's not...usual, though, to be dressed so nicely, in my office." He spread his arms, revealing his white button-down short-sleeved shirt, his neat black pants -- nothing fancy, nothing special. "Do you think of this as a special occasion?"  
  
It was Miyako's turn to be embarrassed. "Ah, I'll wear scrubs tomorrow."  
  
"I'm sure you'll look stunning," Koushirou said dryly, his face turned away from her as he inserted the key into the ignition. "As always."  
  
Miyako's face wrinkled into a picture of honest surprise. Did he mean that? What did it matter to her? It wasn't her fault. She was just trying to be friendly.   
  
It wouldn't be good to work with someone that still hated her for something that was eighteen years in the past, for something that was so utterly insignificant, she didn't know why she could still remember the precise time of year it had happened --   
  
_-- fall, shading to winter, the leaves on the trees almost entirely gone, the cold wind ripping into her vandalized heart --_  
  
-- well, maybe it was important, she wouldn't have married Ken otherwise.   
  
Ken, who was dead.  
  
Miyako shivered, a slight movement barely noticeable. Koushirou frowned and turned down the air conditioning.   
  
She had gotten this job so that she would work. She was going to work. She was going to _work_.  
  
_Damnit._  
  
---  
  
How come she looked so beautiful? How could she look so beautiful? What right did she have to have such a hold over his heart, even after all these years?   
  
Koushirou silently but profoundly cursed off his altruistic (masochistic?) streak.  
  
_Get your priorities straight..._  
  
He was here not to mourn a lost love, not to wallow in self-pity, and most certainly not to court a newly-made widow. He was here to work with his new assistant.  
  
_Got that clear?  
  
Aye aye.  
  
Still...  
  
Damnit._  
  
---   
  
After a mostly silent drive, both humans being absorbed with their own thoughts and neither digimon feeling talkative, Koushirou's car pulled up in front of a huge building.  
  
Miyako's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "This is where you work?"  
  
"Yes," answered Koushirou nonchantantly.  
  
Miyako stared at him.  
  
Koushirou sweatdropped. "Miyako-kun, why such a weird look?"  
  
Miyako managed to get her voice under control as she answered, "I knew you were RICH, I just didn't know HOW rich."  
  
Koushirou parked -- in a VIP space, Miyako noted absently. "It's not a big deal...I had some close friends that needed me to help them set up a new business. They're smart. They managed to keep it profitable. I just supplied programs and techological designs, and for some reason people bought them. Nothing special."  
  
"You're so modest," groaned Miyako.  
  
"Really! I wasn't that interested in most of what I was doing until the last few years, when I found my true calling. Money and power has never been that important to me," he shrugged. "What I wanted to do -- what was important to my heart -- was to research the Digital world."  
  
They both got out of the car. Koushirou opened the door and helped out Tentomon, then swiftly picked up the baby supplied Hawkmon had so recently been overburdened with.  
  
"Thank you," Hawkmon said instantly.  
  
"Not a problem," Koushirou said. He turned back to Miyako, who was adjusting Ari's position in her arms. "I remembered that Sora's father Professor Takenouchi and Jyou's brother Kido Shuu had been researching the Digital world for quite some time in our youth. Although both had gone different ways quite some time ago, I managed to get them both to continue working with me. Along with Tentomon, we make a pretty solid team. Takenouchi-sensei researches myths, Shuu-san is really good at correlating events in the Digital world to events in our world -- you should hear some of the theories he has, they're wild -- Tentomon's simply the best at gathering information -- "   
  
Tentomon took a bow. Miyako stiffled a giggle.  
  
" -- and I take their information, feed it through the computer, and spin theories for everyone to look at. Among other things," Koushirou said a bit stiffly.  
  
"Mm." The four of them -- six, counting the fast-asleep Ari and Leafmon, who was uneasily balancing on Hawkmon's head -- headed indoors. There were a few guards at the front of the building, but a nod from Koushirou made them all relax.  
  
Koushirou entered an elevator, waited for everyone else to enter it, and then pushed a button. The elevator immediately started zooming up.  
  
"So," Miyako said finally, "what am I bringing to the team?"  
  
Koushirou's eyes steadied on her. Miyako felt like a deer frozen in a headlght's glare. "Well, your ideas and opinions, which differ greatly from my own -- in fact, you have the most unique viewpoint of anyone that I know." From him, it was a great compliment. "You're very original, and you'll be bound to make us look at things very differently. You'll also be taking a load off my shoulders in analyzing data, and you'll be certain to not let me work 80 hours a week."  
  
"But...why me?"  
  
The elevator stopped, but Koushirou kept the door closed without lifing his gaze from Miyako. Their eyes were locked.  
  
"Because you're you," Koushirou said finally. "Because you needed a job. Because I needed someone like you, whom I could trust -- and I've always trusted you completely."  
  
The faintest of blushes appeared on Miyako's cheeks. "But..."  
  
"But nothing." Koushirou's tone grew faster and harsher as he went on. "You're a Chosen, just like me. You understand, in a way that Takenouchi-sensei and Shuu-san could never understand, the pressures and difficulties of being a Chosen, of the Digital world. You know it instinctively, without even thinking about it. You would never, ever sacrifice any life, and would do everything in your power to stop harm coming to the digital world. "  
  
"Kou -- " Miyako started, but Koushirou cut her off with a wave of his hand, obviously inflamed about his subject matter.  
  
"Did you know that right now there are no less than a hundred radical groups plotting on how to destroy the Digital world? They're jealous and afraid of digimon of all kinds, and want to cut off the Digital world -- forever. That's what I want to solve. I want to save the Digital world again, even though I'm too old for active fighting. I want to protect it so well that none of these groups will ever succeed in their evil plans -- and they are evil, you know, just as much as any of the evil digimon we both fought. Just because they're humans doesn't mean we aren't in a battle. And I want...I want to fight this one my own way. With your help, we could win. That is...that's my heart's secret wish, my passion." He took in a deep breath and smiled sheepishly. "That's why I need you to help me."  
  
Miyako's amber eyes were wide. "Koushirou..." she whispered. Abashed, she corrected herself, adding the proper suffix.  
  
His smile grew a shade more stretched. "Tell you what, Miyako. I know you're not comfortable with calling me -san, and I'm not thrilled with calling you -kun. While we're in the office, it'd be best to address me politely, but when we're outside of the office...well, we're friends, right? Address me as you'd call a friend. I stopped using suffixes for most of my Chosen friends long ago."  
  
"Yes," said Miyako. "Koushirou."  
  
"Miyako."  
  
He released his hold on the button holding the elevator shut, and they all trooped out. Hawkmon and Tentomon watched their respective partners with wariness. They both knew that something had gone on that wasn't usual, but neither could name what had happened.  
  
---  
  
Miyako threw herself whole-heartedly into her work almost instantly.   
  
It was _good_ for her to get away from the apartment she had shared with Ken for hours at a time, forcing her away from the memories and the sadness.  
  
It was _good_ for her to get out and into the world, expanding her horizons. She hadn't realized how chained she'd been -- how she'd chained herself -- until she'd become free.  
  
It was _good_ for her to be earning money. She didn't want to have to depend on the charity of her friends, no matter how generous they were. She wanted to do her own work, fair and square.  
  
It was _good_ for her to have such fascinating work, which really _was_ fascinating. Every day, she'd learned something knew. Every day, the new data served to completely boggle her mind and make her think in completely new ways she'd never dreamed of before. Even from day one, when she was just going over the procedures and learning how to work with the very advanced equipment she'd been provided with, she realized that this was what made her heart sing. This was her passion.  
  
It was...it was _good_ for her to get over the almost paralyzing fear that had controlled her for years whenever she saw Koushirou. Now that she was over that -- she was over all of the hard feelings -- she could concentrate on how friendly and nice he really was, and how considerate, and especially how brilliant he was, like her childhood sempai.  
  
_The one she'd...  
  
...no...  
  
...fallen...  
  
Stop it!_  
  
Part of her was still attached to him. Part of her still hated him. She knew about both parts and ignored them in her best imitating-Izumi fashion.  
  
There were differences between the Koushirou she knew now and the childhood Koushirou, and even from the Koushirou she'd dated throughout college. This Koushirou was just as focused but a bit more laid-back and flexible, able to adapt to different strategies. More open. She suspected it was fatherhood which had thrust these changes on him, but she couldn't be certain.  
  
He solicited her opinion quite often. It almost embarrassed her, how much he trusted in her ideas. She hoped her thoughts weren't as stupid as they seemed to her. He never acted like they were.  
  
Miyako rode with him to his house every day to pick up Osamu. She saw how gentle he was towards his daughter, how respectful he was towards his mother, how nicely he treated herself and her children, never being anything less than genuinely warm and courteous.  
  
Unbidden, a thought crossed her mind -- he's _kind_.

Miyako shook her head and tried to clear her head, but the thought never really went away.

---  
  
Mimi Tachikawa-Lyon's apartment was, like Mimi herself, perfectly coordinated and elegant. The walls matched the floors, the floors matched the furniture, and the effect was like stepping into a magazine.  
  
Mimi was also a gracious host. When Daisuke and Daichi Motomiya appeared at her doorstep -- unannounced, but still appreciated -- Mimi barely blinked before ushering them both in.  
  
"Carl's out on a business meeting," she said immediately as she prepared some tea. "He won't be back for a while. Shawn's in his room. Dai," she said, smiling at the younger boy as she used his American nickname, "why don't you join him?"  
  
"Okay," chirped Daichi, and walked off. Since Daisuke and Mimi were the only original Chosen to be living in America, they'd become good friends over the years. The Motomiya men were a common sight at Mimi's apartment -- or, at least, had been until recently.  
  
"So, Daisuke," Mimi said, reverting to her childhood Japanese as she poured the tea, "what brings you here? I haven't seen you since...since Ken's funeral a few months back, in fact, and you really didn't stay for very long."  
  
A look of uncharacteristic bitterness crossed Daisuke's face. "I'm sorry, but if Ichijouji Ken had meant half as much to you as he did to me, you'd see why it's been hard for me to really relate to the outside world."  
  
Mimi took a sip of her tea. "Mm." Using her teacup as a cover, she studied Daisuke's face. His face was in the grooves of sorrow. She made an instant decision. "We all loved Ken very much."  
  
Daisuke, who was in mid-sip, choked and turned red.  
  
"I suppose it was harder for the younger Chosen, who knew him best," Mimi said, seeming to study her teacup. "Especially you and Miyako."  
  
Daisuke made a valiant attempt to speak, but ended up only sputtering.  
  
"It's funny, what everyone thought...that Miyako was in love with Koushirou...that you and Ken were so close -- "   
  
Daisuke gave her a dark look. "I thought so too."  
  
Mimi continued on her litany. " -- that Takeru and Hikari would eventually get married, that Sora and Yamato would stay together for eternity..."  
  
Daisuke cut in with tones that could have cut cheese. "That you and Jyou would stay together."  
  
Mimi sighed in response to his barb. "How come the only marriages that seemed to really last were the ones made by the only two Chosen smart enough to marry out? Taichi's marriage is still strong, same with Iori, and they both married non-Chosen women."  
  
"I disagree," Daisuke said unexpectedly. "Takeru married a non-Chosen, and his wife died after only a few years. That wasn't happily ever after. My wife ran off, and she was a non-Chosen -- but she left Daichi with me, and she wasn't that great, anyway."  
  
"I always wondered about her," Mimi said. "I always thought you could do better."  
  
"Right. Koushirou and Hikari never married, although they both have children -- Koushirou adopted, and Hikari..." He trailed off and got back on firmer ground. "Mimi, you've had two non-Chosen husbands. Neither have been exactly stellar material."  
  
Mimi made a face. "I'm determined to make this marriage last."  
  
"Carl's an idiot. Make it last with someone worth your time."  
  
Mimi's eyes suddenly got sparkly. "Ahh~h, you're such a charmer, Daisuke-sama! Please save a spot in your heart for me, Daisuke-sama!"

"Cut it out," Daisuke frowned.  
  
"I know. I'm not your type."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Daisuke," Mimi said, staring him straight in the eye, her pretense of innocence dropped. "Why did you come to my home without V-mon?"  
  
"I didn't want V-mon to know about this. I knew Dai'd be occupied elsewhere, but V-mon would have insisted to stay. I don't want him to know."  
  
"What's 'this?'" Mimi asked.  
  
Daisuke sighed, and pulled out a large, padded envelope. He handed it silently to Mimi.  
  
"That's...that's your name, in Ken's handwriting," Mimi said, puzzled.  
  
"I know." Daisuke's tone was suddenly drained, as if he was too exhausted to move or even emote, an old, tired man. "I know."  
  
Mimi turned the envelope over, noting its weight. "May I?"  
  
"You might as well." Again, the 'dead' tone.  
  
Mimi slit it open skillfully.  
  
Pictures poured out.  
  
Not just any pictures -- pictures of Daisuke. Hundreds of pictures of Daisuke. Daisuke smiling, Daisuke laughing, Daisuke acting up, Daisuke fighting with Takeru, Daisuke with an arm slung casually around Ken's shoulders, Daisuke from the time he was twelve to a time in his early twenties. There were so many, no two the same. 

Mimi looked up in surprise and met Daisuke's eyes.  
  
"Hikari was the official picture-taker of our group, but Ken could -- and often did -- take his own pictures," Daisuke supplied in an ironic undertone.  
  
"There are...so many."  
  
"I'm a ham. I always volunteered to pose for Ken's camera. I didn't realize...or maybe I did, but I didn't care."  
  
"Oh." It wasn't enough, and Mimi knew it. "Why?"  
  
Without even seeming to look, Daisuke swept his hand through the pictures and picked out a sheet of personal stationary, neatly folded. Rare, for 2028. Nearly everything was on computers.   
  
Daisuke handed it to Mimi. Mimi read the words. She blinked, and let them sink in.  
  
They were common words, words said again and again and again, with different depths of emotion each time. When written down in flawless handwriting like Ichijouji Ken's, they took on forms of precious gems, of diamonds, etching themselves in the heart.  
  
Mimi didn't need to read them out loud. But she did anyway. Unconsciously, she adopted Ken's soft tones as she read them out loud.  
  
"Daisuke. I love you. Ken."  
  
The words hung in the air, balancing in the echoes of time.  
  
Daisuke gave no physical reaction at first. Slowly, as if he was stuck in syrup, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter.   
  
"Don't smoke," Mimi said, breaking the spell.  
  
He blinked at her, uncomprehending. "There are ashtrays here."  
  
"Carl smokes. I wish he wouldn't."  
  
"I wish a lot of things. I might as well have an early death on that list."  
  
"No," Mimi whispered. "Ken wouldn't want that."  
  
"How the hell am I supposed to know what Ken wanted?" Daisuke asked softly. "He's such a screwed-up person. He wished for his brother to die. He tried to take over an entire world -- and would probably have succeeded, if not for some dumb luck and miscalculation. He fell in love with his best friend, but was too cowardly to accept that part of him. When his other friend was distressed, he proposed -- leaving everyone around them in turmoil and destroying three romances in the process. Only after his death was he able to confess. What a coward. What a pathetic person."  
  
Mimi's eyes were wide. "Daisuke, you don't mean this. You can't."  
  
Daisuke looked at her, eyes half-lidded -- with amusement? With pity? "Mimi, I have to stay angry at Ken. I have to be mad. If not...I'll start crying, because I love him, and now he's really gone forever."  
  
Mimi was speechless, but only for a moment. Her maternal instincts took over. She walked to where Daisuke was sitting and folded her arms around him, mingling her tears with his and comforting him in the only way she knew how.

---

Koushirou had the feeling that he was living on borrowed time.  
  
Every hour, every minute, every second he was with Miyako, his heart soared. He smiled because he knew he would see her. His world was better because she was there.  
  
He loved her.  
  
More to the point, he was _in_ love with her. Totally, completely, absolutely.   
  
He loved being in love with her -- his new perception, his heightened senses, the feeling that he was drowning and it wasn't that bad, not at all.  
  
There was only one problem, and just thinking of this problem was a splash of cold water on his face.   
  
She didn't love him back.  
  
She _couldn't_ love him back. She was in mourning and probably still in love with Ken, her heart too fragile to even think of having him touch it. She only thought of him as a friend, and even that was iffy. He'd had his chance with her already, and soundly blown it.  
  
Koushirou wanted to go back in time and slap his younger self for screwing things up so blindly.  
  
"Are you stupid?" he'd shout. "How can you not appreciate what you have? Wait until you go without her for ten, almost twenty years, starved for love and knowing that you were the one that caused your own misery? You'll see how your work is no comfort then, no matter how much effort you put into it."  
  
He couldn't, though. Too bad. He had a lot to say.  
  
He should appreciate his friendship with Miyako, and be happy that she still allowed him, ignorant buffoon that he was, to be near her. Allowed him the pleasure of working with her for the time that he had left with her, before her mourning year was up and she started looking outwards again, for a father to her children, for a husband.  
  
He'd keep her for as long as he could. He'd keep his hold on her, damnit, and he wouldn't let go. He wouldn't let go.  
  
He loved her. He was allowed to be stupid. It came in the description.   
  
He needed a cold shower.  
  
---


	4. Part 4

Yaaaay! I've reached Part 4! Well, people, I'm really sick and probably shouldn't be in front of a computer right now, but I wanted to upload this part. 

Basically, this is where the good stuff starts happening. ^_^ The first three parts were basically setting up the situation -- now, the plot actually goes somewhere. Actually, this part has relatively little happening (although there is a kiss scene! Woo-hoo!), but the next three parts are all pretty jam-packed with stuff. I believe the only new Japanese word in this scene is the suffix '-han', which is from Tentomon's dialect, and basically means the same as -san, which is Mr. ^^;; I think the Osaka dialect is fun, actually. ^_^

I don't own Digimon. I actually don't think I'd be good at writing actual Digimon scripts, I'm too much of an angst fan and my bad jokes aren't funny, even by the dub standards. ^^;;

**Kirai ni Narenai~I Can't Hate You~  
Part 4  
by Rb**

Spring passed into summer, which blended into fall.   
  
Miyako was looking over some documents when the thought struck her -- it'd been six months since Ken died.  
  
She paused in her work, removed her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Had it been that long? It seemed like only yesterday that he'd been beside her, rising in the middle of the night to tend Ari, moving so gently she never heard him get out of bed. Only last week she'd heard him humming as he read, one hand stroking Wormmon's head. Only last month that they'd lain together for the first time, on their wedding night.  
  
That had been an odd time. It wasn't her first time, but she rather suspected it had been Ken's. They'd been worried, excited, drunk on the emotions of the wedding -- well, Miyako was, it was hard for Ken to ever let himself get as carried away as Miyako did, he was too self-contained.  
  
Before they were ready, he'd asked her a question.  
  
_"Miyako, is it possible to lie to yourself?"  
  
Confused, she'd answered, "I guess so."  
  
"Are you sure?" he'd pressed.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
_  
That being said, they'd surrendered to the night.  
  
Miyako wondered about a lot of things. One of them was whether she'd ever known the true Ichijouji Ken, or whether he'd been deceiving her all those years of their marriage. She wouldn't put it past him -- she knew he could live a lie, had seen him live a lie before.  
  
She remembered the memoirs that Koushirou had -- literally -- under lock and key. Maybe if she could read them, she would be able to see the real Ken... the one he'd hidden, even from her.  
  
"Thinking deep thoughts?" asked a quiet voice beside her. She jerked up to see Koushirou standing next to her chair, smiling gently.  
  
"Ah...not really," she covered up, smiling ruefully as she replaced her glasses. "I just remembered...it's been six months since Ken died."  
  
His eyes flickered with grief. "I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right!" She forced a brighter smile onto her face. "Don't worry about me. I'm learning how to survive. I have to learn how to go on. Please don't be sad on my account."  
  
"I won't," he promised. He sat down on a corner of her desk. "Find anything new?"  
  
"Not really," Miyako said, wrinkling her nose. "If I find anything, I'll tell you."  
  
She'd already discovered that Koushirou, when he had nothing else to do, liked to wander into her office space and talk to her about seemingly random topics, ranging from work to the Digital World to their children. Koushirou knew much about child-rearing, to Miyako's surprise, and was a good source of advice when dealing with her own three children.  
  
If she minded that Koushirou interrupted her work so often, she would have complained, either obliquely or to his face, and put an instant stop to his practice. But she didn't mind. She didn't mind at all.  
  
"Six months..." he sighed, changing the topic easily. "Are you going to do anything?"  
  
"I don't think so," she shrugged.   
  
"Why not eat dinner at my house? My mother won't mind, and I'd feel better if you were among friends, tonight."  
  
"Well..."  
  
"I'll invite Hikari and Iori, if you wish. And the other Chosen, as well. Your children and my own will be there, of course, and all of our digimon. And my mother. It can be...something of a party. A _family_ party," Koushirou stressed.  
  
"Oh...all right."  
  
"Good." He smiled. Koushirou had always had a nice smile, Miyako reflected. He just hadn't seemed to use it until recently. Maybe being a father had mellowed him out. Stranger things have happened, after all.  
  
"Do you think you'll be getting remarried, when your mourning year is up?" he inquired curiously.  
  
Miyako blushed slightly. "I...I don't know yet, it rather depends on me meeting the right guy, after all."  
  
"Is that a yes or no?" he teased.  
  
"I guess I will. I'm not going to get married 'just for the sake of being married.' I'd have to really love the man, and have him love me back -- and there aren't many men left, at my age."  
  
"Ah, yes, you're such an old fogey, says the man who happens to be only a year older than you," Koushirou grinned.  
  
"Thank you." Miyako grinned back.  
  
"If you want unattached men, there's always Daisuke," he suggested.  
  
Miyako's eyes widened in shock. "Marry Daisuke? It'd be like...like marrying my own brother or something." They both laughed. Miyako sobered after a while. "I'd like more children. I had a big family growing up. I like kids. I'd like to have a whole bunch."  
  
"That would be nice," agreed Koushirou wistfully. "I was an only child, myself, and Hitomi seems to be an only child as well."  
  
"There's no reason for that!" Miyako said, aghast. "Find some nice woman and make some more children! They're what make this world worth living in!"  
  
Koushirou turned and looked closely at her computer display. "Ah, but there aren't many women left, at my age...I have to confess, if I had another daughter, I'd like to name her Haruko. Izumi Haruko. Isn't that a great name?"  
  
Miyako looked suspiciously at Koushirou. "Izumi Haruko...there's a pun in there, isn't there -- oh!" she yelped so loudly that Tentomon looked up from his own display. "You wouldn't!"  
  
"It's a good name..."  
  
Miyako glared at him. "You'd seriously name your daughter something that translates into English as 'Spring Spring?'"  
  
"Well, when you put it _that_ way..." He grinned. "The workday's almost over. You might as well close up. I'll go and call the others."  
  
"All right." She found that she was smiling. Koushirou did that to her. It was a friendly feeling and a sort of warming halo around her heart.  
  
From the other side of the office, Hawkmon watched with trepidation.  
  
---  
  
Tentomon pretended to be asleep in the corner of Koushirou's office as the man started making phone calls. Koushirou's phone calls were certainly something to listen to.  
  
"Hi, Mother, this is Koushirou...I want to invite a few friends over for dinner tonight, so can you fix some extra dinner...yes, including Miyako-kun...Mother!...I can hear your laughter...I fail to see what's so amusing...all right, I'm thinking...all of the Chosen, their children, and all of their digimon...about thirty, half of them digimon, so have a lot...what do you mean, there's no possible way you can cook that much?! Order out! Pay extra! Bribe them! It's got to be perfect for Mi -- for everyone!"  
  
"Ne, Yuuki-kun, can you get your father on the phone...ah, Taichi, I was wondering if you'd like to come to dine at my house this evening. Yes, bring everyone, even Yuuki-kun and Umi-san if you want. Oh? You have something to tell me? Tell us all at my dinner party! It's at six."  
  
"Hello, Takeru...oh, Hikari, that's great, I wanted to talk to you both anyway. You're both invited to eat at my house tonight...it's not exactly a special occasion...see, it's been six months since Ken died, and I don't want to Miyako to be alone tonight...Hikari!" Tentomon looked up with interest. Koushirou's cheeks were rapidly reddening. "I thought you were supposed to be the inno...all right, come over to my place, around six."  
  
"Iori. Would you like to eat at my house tonight? With your family, of course...thank you. I'll see you at six."  
  
Tentomon yawned as Koushirou left messages on Yamato's and Sora's answering machines.  
  
"Jyou, would you like to eat at my house tonight?...oh, why?...but...Jyou...come on, Jyou, honestly, we've barely ever seen you in the last few years, do something with your friends instead of moping alone watching Mimi's insincere face on the television and moping on how it could have been different!" The silence went on for a while. Tentomon watched in fascination as the color drained from Koushirou's face. "I'm...I'm sorry...yes, that was out of line...but please, Jyou, come, it won't be the same without you...Thank you. I'll see you at six."  
  
Koushirou set down the vid-phone, panting slightly.  
  
"Koushirou-han, this means a lot to you, huh?" Tentomon asked. "But why'd you snap at Jyou like that?"  
  
"Eh! Tentomon, I didn't realize you were there...I was just a bit stressed out...I snap when I'm stressed...let's go, Miyako'll be waiting."  
  
"Just make sure you don't drive off without me," Tentomon muttered.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Tentomon stretched his wings and buzzed up into the air. "Koushirou-han...we've been best friends for around thirty years now, correct?"  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"And we've always been close friends, never putting anything before each other?"  
  
"Yes...Tentomon, we have to go -- "  
  
"Then why am I always being pushed aside for Miyako?"  
  
Tentomon's words fell like ice chips; Koushirou stopped dead in his tracks. "Tentomon, I...I would never..."  
  
"Look at you right now. You were more interested in Miyako than me. Admit it."  
  
"Tentomon...I wouldn't just 'push you aside'...you mean so much more than just that to me, but...I care for Miyako." He blushed.  
  
"Does she care for you back?" Tentomon asked.  
  
"I...I don't...no," he sighed. "Not in the same way."  
  
"Oh," was Tentomon's response.  
  
Koushirou slumped, then managed a smile. "C'mon, Tentomon. Let's go."  
  
Tentomon stared at his human partner's retreating back. He knew Koushirou had difficult emotional responses; Koushirou had never exactly been open and warm and emotional, even when he'd been a young boy. Especially not when he'd been a young boy, come to think of it. His emotional responses had always been very contained, very controlled.  
  
To see Koushirou's emotions to be slipping out from behind the mask Koushirou had always worn...it was frightening, to say the least.  
  
Tentomon buzzed his wings and followed Koushirou out the door. The least he could do would be to watch, now. To wait and see. He was good at being patient. _He_ could manage.  
  
---  
  
During the ride back, Miyako noticed that Koushirou seemed unusually tense and quiet, but she couldn't think of much to say herself. His determination to have this dinner party for her was...startling, to say the least. She didn't need it. She didn't want it. She didn't want to disappoint Koushirou, though.  
  
Koushirou's mind was on fire. Everything had to be perfect for Miyako, he'd have to make sure that it was all perfect and all right, tonight would be a major night, tonight would be the night that he could finally start to judge her feelings for him, whether they were reciprocated at all...  
  
Tentomon was unsure of Koushirou's priorities and emotions, worried but trusting.  
  
Hawkmon was anxious, having picked up on Koushirou's true intentions long ago and not thinking it was proper.  
  
Ari was sleeping. He was such a gentle baby.  
  
---  
  
The argument on the doorstep had obviously been going on for a long time when Koushirou and the others finally reached his home, and showed no signs of stopping soon.   
  
Miyako winced. While she'd heard about Sora's and Yamato's fights -- normally in great detail from Sora -- it was rare to actually witness one of their fights, Sora being too dignified and Yamato too reserved to fight in public.   
  
Besides her, Koushirou looked thoughtful. "Shall we break it up?"  
  
Miyako's eyes widened slightly. "I...I guess so."  
  
Koushirou scurried out of the car, opening doors all around. He opened Miyako's door first, almost tripping over himself in his rush to get to her. After everyone had clambered out -- Miyako lifting up Ari and holding him, glad to have something to hold -- they walked towards Sora and Yamato, who were encased in their flaming argument.  
  
"How can you forget your own daughter's birthday?" Sora spat out, her voice shrill with anger.   
  
Yamato's reply was quiet and low-pitched. "How am I supposed to remember it when I barely remember what she looks like?"  
  
Sora's cheeks flushed in anger. "And whose fault is that, Mr. 'I-Don't-Care-If-It's-My-Turn-To-Watch-The-Children,-I'll-Just-Make-It-Up-Any-Time?"  
  
Yamato ran a hand through his close-cropped blond hair, obviously uncomfortable. "I promised I'd make it up. I keep my promises. I've made plans...I haven't seen Tori for nearly a month," he said, his voice pleading.   
  
"Again, whose fault is that? You have your weekends, I have mine."  
  
Koushirou cleared his throat noisily. Both of the sparring partners looked up in shock. "What seems to be the matter?"  
  
Sora and Yamato looked towards each other, then both turned towards Koushirou, not seeing Miyako and the other digimon behind him.  
  
"Well," Sora started a bit uneasily, "you know the settlement, right?"  
  
Koushirou nodded, his solemn black eyes seeming to lock onto both of them. "You, Sora, get Tori during the week, and Yamato, you get Touma. During weekends, both children go with one parent or the other. It's alternated, as are special occasions."  
  
"It's a better arrangement than what Takeru and I got, but it's still not totally fair," Yamato said bitterly.   
  
"Now, in theory, it works out well," Sora said, tight-lipped, "but in practice it has a few failings. Such as a certain someone's constantly calling Thursday night or even Friday morning saying 'I'm sorry, I'm busy, you take the kids this weekend, I'll make it up somehow.'"   
  
Yamato's blue eyes blazed as he glared at Sora. "That wasn't my fault! My boss, I've asked for all the weekends I have with the children off, but her scheduling, she's always - "  
  
Sora took no notice. "Or a certain someone conveniently forgetting whenever it's his weekend to take the children. Or a certain someone forgetting when it's his daughter's birthday and doesn't even have the courtesy to call her. Or - "  
  
"Or a certain someone being such a friggin' cast-iron BITCH that she won't even let her children's father see his children!" Yamato yelled.  
  
In the silence after Yamato's outburst, Ari began to cry.   
  
"Stop it!" Miyako said, moving into Sora's and Yamato's line of view, shoulder to shoulder with Koushirou. Koushirou tensed slightly, obviously ready to intercede at any moment. "Stop your arguing, you two! Don't you realize that your children are probably waiting right inside the front door and hearing every single word you're saying? Every time I come here, they're disappointed that you haven't come. Do you argue like this every time you come to pick them up?"  
  
Sora blanched. Yamato took an involuntary step back.   
  
"Actually, Miyako-san," Koushirou said in an ironic undertone -- Miyako wondered why he was suddenly being so formal -- "every night Yamato calls to make sure that Sora has already picked up Tori and is gone. Every weekend, they drop the kids off at a neutral place -- like my house or Taichi's apartment -- for the other parent to pick up. This might very well be the first time they've seen each other face to face since...since, well, Ken-san's funeral."  
  
"Oh," said Miyako. "Still. As parents, you have a responsibility to be civil to each other, if only for your children's sake. Now, kiss and make up, like Ken and I would have done."  
  
Miyako felt rather than saw Koushirou's wince, and thought, _he doesn't want me thinking about Ken tonight. What a kind man, to want to distract me!_ She placed a slender white hand on his shoulder to reassure him.  
  
Sora saw this. She also saw the faint blush that appeared on Koushirou's face at Miyako's gentle touch. She put these two interesting facts together with other hints and some gleanings from conversations with Hikari, and her eyes widened.   
  
_Koushirou...and Miyako? No way! Well, history has repeated itself before...ohh, I hope she feels the same way...what's gonna happen? I'd better stay here, and pick up the pieces..._  
  
Sora fixed a smile on her face. "You're right. I'm sorry, Yamato." She stood stiffly on her tip-toes, closed her eyes, and gingerly kissed Yamato on the cheek. The scent -- it was of, well, Yamato, but she'd always thought of it as simply "man" -- nearly overwhelmed her in the brief, passionless, kiss. It was of tobacco, which always clung to his favorite leather jacket, and of aftershave, and of something else that she could never quite identify...  
  
Startled and breathless, she broke off from the kiss -- which had only been a few seconds, but felt like an eternity. Yamato was staring at her, his blue eyes unfocused, looking as though he'd just woken up from a dream.  
  
Miyako grinned. "Sora, Yamato, Koushirou's having a family party here at six. Won't you come?"  
  
"Sure!" Sora accepted immediately. "I'd love to!"  
  
"Uh, I'd rather not," Yamato muttered. He looked askance at Sora. Was it her imagination, or were the traces of a flush still on his cheeks? "May I...take the children this weekend?" Sora nodded. "I'll go get them, then." He walked up to the front door and attempted to turn the knob. He sweatdropped. "Ahh...it appears to be locked."  
  
"Allow me," Koushirou said gallantly. With a flourish, he produced a key and unlocked the door. Yamato gave him a dry look, which Koushirou returned with a grin.  
  
Miyako and Sora giggled.   
  
---  
  
Osamu heard the voices of adults long before any of his playmates did, but he never paid attention to the voices he heard. He let the sounds of the argument roll over him as he stacked blocks together around him.   
  
Hitomi cocked her head, her red hair falling into her face. "I hear my daddy."   
  
"I hear your father, too," corrected Tori crossly. She never used 'baby' words. "And my mother and father, too. Bet they're arguing over who gets us again," she told her brother, wrinkling her nose.  
  
"Doesn't it bother you to hear your parents fight?" Hitomi asked curiously. In all of her memory, she couldn't remember her father once raising his voice at her or her grandmother.  
  
Tori shrugged. "Enh. I got used to it."   
  
"'Neechan?" Touma called for his big sister.  
  
"What is it, Touma?" Tori asked, turning back to him.  
  
"Which parent do you think we'll visit this weekend?"  
  
Tori considered for a moment. "Hmm. Mother's had us for the past few weeks, but she's also better at arguing. However, Father seems to be putting up quite a fight. It could go either way."  
  
"I hope we go back to Daddy's," Touma said. "I want to show you my new VR games. They're fun."  
  
Hitomi crept closer to the door, having abandoned any pretense of interest in the blocks. "Oooh, Osamu-chan, your mommy's here too."  
  
Osamu paid no attention. His wall of blocks completely surrounded him and Minomon, and was nearly up to his waist when he stood up. Sooner or later, he'd run out of blocks, and then Minomon would have to float over and pick up more.   
  
Crash! Crash! Crash! All of a sudden, the walls fell down, and blocks scattered everywhere. Minomon zoomed up and buried himself in Osamu's hair. Osamu's eyes shut as his face screwed up, but he took in a deep breath and forced himself to think calmly.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was expecting to see that Hitomi, Tori, and Touma would be laughing at him -- Tori meanly ('cause Tori was always mean to him), Hitomi kindly (because she meant it as a game, and would be offended when he didn't laugh as well), and Touma innocently (because he only did what Tori did). They would be standing in front of him, arranged like three avenging angels.   
  
He wasn't expecting to see...no one.  
  
He looked down farther, and realized the destruction of his Wall had come from Hitomi's Motimon, Touma's Tsunomon, and Tori's Pyocomon.   
  
"What do you want?" he muttered. He could feel Minomon clinging tighter into his hair. He wanted Minomon to calm down, but he couldn't figure out how...  
  
"Don't lock yourself up," Motimon said in an oddly sweet tone, which made Osamu think of Hitomi, of sunshine and smiles. "We're here for you to talk to."  
  
"You can always talk to us, and we'll always listen," said Pyocomon, smiling a little shyly.  
  
"After all, you're our friend too, right? Right? Right?" asked a bouncing Tsunomon.  
  
Osamu felt Minomon release his terrified grip on his, Osamu's, purple hair and gently float down to the crook of his elbow.   
  
"Right," breathed Osamu. "Right."  
  
Just then, the door slid open. There was a loud thump - or succession of thumps - as Hitomi, Tori, and Touma all fell over from where they had been (rather unsuccessfully) straining to hear the conversation between their parents.   
  
Osamu turned around in shock to see his mother and three other adults enter the room and stare at the mess.  
  
"Urk," said Osamu.  
  
"Ow," said Tori, who was at the bottom of the pile.  
  
Hitomi carefully climbed out of the tangle, straightened her dress, and skipped over to her father. "Daddy!"  
  
"Hitomi, honey..." the red-headed man, Hitomi's father, smiled a little worriedly, "why is this room so messy?"  
  
"Ahhh..." Hitomi beamed. "Grandmommy left us in here, and she'd given us a bunch of blocks to play with, and Tori said that this was _stupid_ and why did we have to play with a bunch of stupid blocks anyway, but Touma seemed to like them and anyway Osamu was building a huge tower, and then Tori and Touma and I..." Hitomi's report shriveled and died. She couldn't _lie_ to her daddykins, but neither could she admit that the children'd been spying on their parents.  
  
"...they were hiding!" Osamu blurted out. Every eye in the room swiveled to Osamu; it was rare that he spoke out loud. "They were hiding, because we were playing a game, and I was going to find them, but then the door opened and my tower fell over..."   
  
"You were playing with the other children?" Miyako asked.   
  
"Of course!" Hitomi agreed. "Osamu-chan's fun to play with!" She was the only one who could say that honestly, but then again, Hitomi liked everyone.   
  
Miyako smiled. "I'm glad."  
  
Before anyone could inquire about Miyako's cryptic comment, Yamato cleared his throat. "Tori, Touma, you're going to come with me this weekend," he told his children. "Tori, do you have everything that you need?"  
  
"Mm!" Tori nodded.  
  
"Yay! I'm gonna get to show 'Neechan my games!" Touma cheered  
  
After both children had said goodbye, they left with Yamato and their digimon.  
  
"Well, we still have some time to kill before six," Koushirou said. "Hitomi, Motimon, we have guests -- please clean this room up before any other guests arrive." The two started working busily, Tentomon helping.  
  
Koushirou turned to Sora and Miyako. "Miyako-san," he said, "will you watch the children for a moment while I speak with Sora privately?"  
  
"Sure," Miyako shugged, wondering at Koushirou's sudden formality, yet his familiarity with Sora. She watched as the two disappeared up a flight of stairs.  
  
Idly, she thought about what she knew of the layout of the house. Upstairs was...Koushirou's office...the library...the bed...rooms...  
  
She flashed back to her earlier off-hand remark to Koushirou about finding some "nice woman" and settling down. She thought about how bitterly Sora and Yamato had been fighting, and how familiar Sora and Koushirou were.  
  
_It can't be...Koushirou and..._her_?_  
  
---  



	5. Part 5

Untitled Normal Page 

Ohohohoho! We've reached my personal favorite part of the series -- the dinner party scene! This is where it gets good! In the next three parts of this fic, nearly every living Chosen gets to narrate at least a section (well, 'cept Daisuke...poor Dai-san, he's all lonely in America, after having had such a tragic life...;_;), and I hope that there's enough to satisfy everyone's tastes!

Honestly, each part really feeds directly from the last part -- dividing this fic into chapters was more for convenience and easy handling of the fic chapters. I really like this part, as not only do I finally write from the point of view of a real writer (whatever one might say about Toei's handling of the Chosen's careers in adult life, I am extremely happy with Takeru's job!), I reach the scene that is basically what I've been building up to for the last two parts. While it spills over somewhat to the next part (there was such a great [from *my* POV] place to stop it that I had to divide it there), this chapter contains the Big Scene. ^_^

Hamasaki Ayumi, for those of you without detailed knowledge of Japanese popular culture, is a very famous idol singer. A rather cruel way of phrasing it is that if Hamasaki Ayumi was an American singer, I would despise her, but since she's Japanese, I willingly adore her. ^^;; 

"Where are you taking me?" Sora asked as she followed Koushirou through his house.  
  
"You'll see," he responded. Sora frowned but continued following.  
  
After a short journey, Koushirou opened a door and presented her to the sight of...ta-da!...his bedroom.  
  
"Um," said Sora, uncomfortably. The room looked like a hotel room, devoid of personality.   
  
He turned to her, black eyes snapping with amusement. "You know, you're the fourth female to ever see my bedroom -- and two of them were my daughter and my mother."  
  
"That must have been some party," Sora said without thinking. "Who was the other female?"  
  
Some of the amusement drained from his face. "Miyako," he admitted.  
  
I knew it, she thought. "How long ago?"  
  
"Six months...no, not exactly! It was after...and anyway, we were just passing through!" He indicated the door ahead of them.  
  
"What, is there more 'equipment' stored in the back?" Sora nervously joked. "You know, pineapple-scented condoms, black leather pants, the works."  
  
"Pineapple? Eh?!" Koushirou looked faintly disgusted. He pulled a tiny silver chain out from underneath his shirt. On the end was a key. "Let's find out."  
  
He unlocked the door. Sora was treated to the sight of his study.  
  
Koushirou seated himself at the hugely powerful computer. Sora hung back and watched his long fingers tap rapidly at the computer. After a few minutes, he began to speak.  
  
"Ken...Ken had given me his memoirs. In his will. He'd left them to me. For the past six months, I've been trying to figure out what he wanted me to do with them. I mean, I've read them all...they go back quite far.  
  
"They're quite detailed. They start just after Wormmon was reborn, so he still remembered, quite clearly, what it was like to be the Kaiser, to have something like that control you. It's a journal of sorts, I suppose. Fascinating from a psychological standpoint. Heartbreaking from a friend's view.   
  
"I keep wondering which of us Chosen should read it. I can't keep in this knowledge much longer, but it wouldn't be appropriate for everyone to read them. I was a good friend, a contemporary, although we'd rather drifted apart as we grew up...I don't want Miyako to read them, not for a year, and I think you'll understand why when you read them."  
  
"Me?" asked Sora, surprised.  
  
"You," Koushirou nodded. "You're the best choice, I think. You're kind and considerate and you won't...judge him. Ah. The file's open. I've highlighted a few sections that I wanted you to read." He exited the chair and motioned for her to sit down. Sora, rather awkwardly, sunk down into the chair, which wasn't quite as comfortable as one might have expected.  
  
Sora brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and began reading.   
  
For the next quarter of an hour, there was dead silence, except for the electronic hum emanating from the computer and occasional short gasps from Sora.   
  
When she was finished, her stomach had curled itself into knots, empathizing Ken's pain and torment.  
  
"See why I hesitate giving this to anyone?" Koushirou asked quietly.  
  
Mind whirling, Sora nodded. Oh my...Ken...Miyako...Daisuke.  
  
"What are your feelings towards Miyako?" Sora asked suddenly. She swiveled the chair towards him, even though his back was towards her.  
  
"Who wants to know?" he shot back.  
  
"A friend. Of both of you."  
  
"I..." he started, then stopped. "I never changed in my feelings."  
  
Sora's eyes softened. "Are you afraid of whether she feels that way as well?"  
  
"I know she doesn't," he said flatly. "It's too soon to even think about it, and even then, I had my chance. And blew it."  
  
"That was nearly twenty years ago," Sora protested.  
  
Koushirou shook his head, still facing away from her. "I think...I think I can be happy in the knowledge that I love her, even though she doesn't love me back. As long as she'll be happy, I'll be happy."  
  
"Love's not supposed to be like that!" Sora protested.  
  
Koushirou finally turned around. Sora wished he hadn't. The look in his eyes was unnerving. "When has love ever gone according to storybooks? It doesn't always work out -- in fact, it rarely works out. I'm not going to risk it. I've got too much to lose by losing control. Having her as a friend again...is enough."  
  
"Love works out more often than that," Sora said weakly.  
  
"Tell that to Yamato," Koushirou snapped.  
  
Sora felt like she'd been slapped.   
  
"I'm sorry," he apologized, looking surprised at his own spitefulness. "That was inexcusable of me." Sora nodded. "But you understand my reluctance."  
  
"You won't be satisfied with being her friend forever," Sora warned.  
  
"I know. But no one lives forever. Ken proved that." Sora gave him a sharp look. Koushirou avoided her gaze and checked his watch. "It's nearly six. The other Chosen should be coming soon." He walked to the door and motioned for Sora to exit the room. After a moment's pause, she got up and walked out.  
  
After Sora left the room, Koushirou turned off the light and locked the door, leaving Ken's memoirs glowing on display in the darkness.  
  
---  
  
Miyako looked around and realized she was the only person over four feet tall left in the room. Eep.   
  
"Hawkmon," she called, "where did you put Ari's booster seat?"  
  
"It's over here," Hawkmon said, pointing. Miyako hurried over to it and settled Ari down carefully. He was over his crying jag, and seemed ready for sleep.  
  
She looked at Hitomi and Osamu. They looked back. Miyako found herself strangely unsettled.  
  
From pictures she had seen of Ken as a child, she knew that Osamu looked just like him, even down to the hairstyle. The only difference was in the color of hair -- her violet shading, not his dark blue. Otherwise, he was exactly like Ken, in every way.  
  
Miyako knew that Ken hadn't been a genius in his youth -- in fact, from what he'd told her, he'd seemed to be rather...simple. But still...  
  
Miyako had had Osamu tested discreetly -- and not so discreetly -- several times. She'd found out that his IQ was so high to be practically unchartable.   
  
That had worried Ken more than anything.  
  
"What if he's inheirited the remnants of the Dark Seed?" he'd asked once, lying in bed, blue eyes gazing at more than just the ceiling. "What if...what if he becomes another Kaiser?"  
  
"He won't be," Miyako had said instantly. "It's..it's not the same."  
  
"How do you know?" he'd snapped, tight-lipped, and Miyako retreated. She knew that he was yearning for Daisuke, his best friend, his savior, the man who had moved to America bare weeks after Miyako's and Ken's wedding.  
  
She'd always kept a close watch on Osamu, especially after Ken's death. She knew that most of the reason Ken had been such a target for the Dark Seed was because of how his brother's death had affected him. Ken had always been closer with Osamu than she had.   
  
Osamu hadn't seemed to be affected, at least not as deeply as Mikomi, who had spent a significant amount of time out and away from the apartment and who spent the rest of her time moping in her room. Osamu had just seemed to be the same as ever, very quiet, very withdrawn, in some way beyond her.  
  
Miyako worried about him, but didn't know how to show it.  
  
She knew that Hitomi was her son's friend, but she'd been unaware of how close they really were. Hitomi looked so much like a small, female Koushirou that it was rather hard speaking to her without comparing her to the baby pictures she'd seen of Koushirou. Even if she was adopted, she looked just like him.  
  
The major difference, Miyako decided after several moments of studying Hitomi, was that Hitomi seemed to generate a cloud of cheerfulness and happiness around her as unselfconsciously as a sun emited beams of light. Koushirou, even as a child, had always had an air of studious disapproval -- "go away, I'm doing something more important than talking to you." Iori had a bit of it as well.  
  
"Yes, Ichijouji-san?" Hitomi said politely. Miyako realized she was staring at the girl, and blushed.  
  
Not fair! Even his daughter makes me feel unsettled!  
  
"I was just wondering if you have any music that we can listen to while waiting for your father to return," Miyako said back.  
  
Hitomi promptly walked over to a computer and started typing in a few brief commands. After a moment, she gestured for Miyako to join her.  
  
"This is Daddy's entire music collection," Hitomi said, pointing to the screen. "It's all up on the screen. The way Daddy set it up, the picture of the album it was on will display...just touch the album you want, and then select the track. A lot of the music is from when he was a teenager. He's very proud of his music collection, so don't make fun of it."  
  
"I won't," Miyako promised, smiling. Being around Hitomi had that effect on most people.  
  
Bemused, Miyako flipped through the titles. Koushirou may have been a classical music fan -- different classical works took up a good half of the collection -- but there were plenty of other kinda of music to satisfy her tastes...  
  
...Was that the album she thought it was?  
  
Miyako paused in her zipping through the files and hesitantly reached out to touch the album. It was. It *was*. My god, he still has it?  
  
It was a Hamasaki Ayumi album. To be specific, the same album that she'd brought in to a Computer Club meeting one day, to Koushirou's displeasure. She'd gotten through about three tracks before he'd been hooked. He'd taken -- borrowed, was the word he'd used -- her CD that day, and hadn't given it back until he had a complete collection of Hamasaki Ayumi CDs. It had been to one of Hamasaki Ayumi's songs that she'd finally convinced him to dance with her at one of Hikari's parties. "C'mon, Izumi-sempai, she's your favorite artist, you have to dance." It had been to another Hamasaki Ayumi song chiming gently in the backround that she'd finally gotten up the courage to admit "suki dayo," I like you, to Koushirou, and heard him respond "suki desu yo," I like you too.  
  
Miyako hadn't heard of Hamasaki Ayumi for..oh...decades.  
  
Does he still listen to these albums, with all the bittersweet memories they must hold for him?  
  
She turned back to the children. "I...don't really want to listen to this right now." A memory, a wisp of a conversation she'd had with Koushirou came to light. "Koushirou-san says that you're really good at playing the piano, Hitomi-chan. Will you play for me?"  
  
Hitomi beamed. "Okay! Follow me!" Hitomi led the way out of that room into a different room. It was a very large room, a grand dining hall, Miyako thought, very tastefully decorated. There were three tables: one in the precise center of the room, the other two smaller tables off to the side. In one corner of the room there was a grand piano.  
  
Hitomi sat down on the bench, her feet dangling off the black polished wood, a foot from the floor. She placed her slender hands on the keyboard and started playing.  
  
It was a simple song, suited for a beginner, but it was very good, the melody pure and strong, with only a few sour notes.  
  
"Excellent, Hitomi-chan!" Miyako applauded at the end.  
  
"Very good," said Osamu.  
  
"Of course it's excellent, Hitomi played it," Motimon said, beaming.  
  
"I liked it as well," a masculine voice said. Miyako looked up and saw Koushirou standing in the doorway, Sora standing behind him. Koushirou's gentle smile was solely for his daughter.  
  
"Daddy!" Hitomi burst out. "Now you play!"  
  
"Me?" Koushirou asked, looking surprised.   
  
"Please..." Hitomi cajoled. "You're so good!"  
  
"I'm out of practice," he groaned, but let himself be dragged to the piano bench. His feet were comfortably settled on the floor. So, Miyako thought, this piano was for Koushirou and not for his daughter. His long fingers stretched out over the keys, and he began to play...  
  
The music seemed to pierce through Miyako's skin and envelope her brain. The music was so sad, it created an actual ache in her heart, and she later remembered thinking "how can anyone with such pain locked in his soul still continue to live?" It cut through to every empathetic nerve in her body, and she felt like crying as the music filled the room and suffused her body. She screwed her eyes tight, guarding against the tears that pricked at them.  
  
The key changed. Instead of sadness, a feeling of light and happiness spread throughout the room, like a premoniton of hope. As Koushirou continued playing, the music became altogether cheerful. Miyako opened her eyes and saw smiles on the faces of the other people and digimon in the room.  
  
Suddenly, the chords faltered and broke off. Koushirou turned around and smiled sheepishly. "I haven't written that far yet. I'm so sorry for the low quality of my work; it really wasn't worthy to be heard by you yet."  
  
There was dead silence in the room. It was finally only broken by Osamu's piping voice. "Sir, did you write that piece yourself?"  
  
"Yes, I did," Koushirou responded slowly. Miyako's eyes were wide. She'd never, ever seen Osamu open up to someone who was practically a complete stranger before. Hell, Hikari could rarely get through to him!  
  
Osamu cocked his head to one side. "How...how did you manage to put your heart in the piano like that?"  
  
Koushirou gave a half-shrug, looking surprised at Osamu's choice of words. "I...I'm sorry, it just kind of happens. I can't explain it."  
  
Osamu continued to interrogate Koushirou. "When did you start playing piano?"   
  
"It was in my youth...I didn't begin to seriously contemplate playing until, oh, nearly twenty years ago."  
  
Miyako didn't remember that.  
  
"In twenty years, do you think I could be as good of a piano player as you?" Osamu asked seriously.   
  
Koushirou's eyes softened. "Osamu-kun, if you practice really hard, I'm sure you'll be a better piano player than I am in no time."  
  
Osamu smiled. Koushirou smiled. Sora moved slightly so that she was next to Miyako and whispered, "Miyako, dear - mouth looks better shut."  
  
Miyako followed Sora's advice but directed a glare in the older woman's direction.  
  
The doorbell rang. Koushirou looked at his watch. "Ah, six o'clock on the dot. It must be Iori and his family." He walked towards the entrance to the main hall, and everyone trouped out to follow him.  
  
"Ne, Ichijouji-san," Hitomi piped in a clear voice to Miyako, "wasn't my daddy amazing?"  
  
Miyako nodded. "He's incredible."  
  
"I'll remember you said that," Sora murmured in an undertone, which made Miyako blush a bright red.  
  
The door swung open, and Iori came in, one arm around his wife. Behind them, Himeko was talking excitedly to Mikomi. Miyako could see Taichi's family and Jyou and his son walking towards the door.  
  
It looked like the party had started.  
  
---  
  
Takaishi Takeru had always been pretty perceptive.  
  
When Takeru was little and in the Digital World for the first time, he'd figured out pretty quickly the emotional relationships in the group and had done his best to relieve the stress and lessen the pain when possible. As he got older, he was popular with everyone (with the noticeable exception of Motomiya Daisuke, whose rivalry had faded over the years) because of his skill of knowing exactly when to insert a kind word and smile to defuse angry tension into the cheerful smiles he was most comfortable around.  
  
In retrospect, it might have been a reason why he and Hikari-chan had always been such close friends. She was so sensitive to the emotional climates around her -- so sensitive that someone else's emotional pain could actually physically affect her -- that his gift of always making sure that that the emotional temperature was stuck on "happy" was innately attractive to her.   
  
The gift had stayed with him over the years. Idly, he wondered if it had manifested in his writing at all. He wasn't sure. It might be what made him such a good writer, after all -- his ability to get into his characters' heads and make them feel what he wanted them to feel -- and, by extension, the readers as well.  
  
It had made him shiver when he had realized how manipulative his writing could be at times. He couldn't really change it, though. It was simply a side-effect of how his thoughts expressed themselves when written down.  
  
As he stepped into the foyer of Koushirou's house, he took stock of the emotional situation. Luckily, it didn't seem too strained -- yet, anyway, although parties often ended up in flaming rows.  
  
Hikari, who had entered right before him, gave him a slight glance underneath her eyelashes. He nodded slightly. No one would have noticed their silent communication except the most observant watcher.   
  
His brother, who had once seen their silent communication back when they were in high school, had commented dryly that they acted like they were married already. Takeru had agreed, until he actually married Hanae. For all of Hanae's wonderful qualities -- and Takeru counted the years that he had spent in her company as some of the best in his life -- he'd never had the same rapport with Hanae in the four years they were married that he'd had within minutes of meeting Hikari. He'd never been able to get as much information from a single glance from Hanae as the loaded one Hikari had just given him.  
  
Keeping to the orders that Hikari has oh-so-subtly just given him, he walked over to Kido Jyou, who was standing morosely in a corner, immersed in a vid-book, the electronic screen mere inches away from his glasses. Takeru tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Jyou flinched.  
  
"Hey, Jyou, it's just me," Takeru smiled, although he wondered why Jyou was being such a recluse. While Jyou was never exactly the life of the party, it was rare to see him hiding in the corner at a Chosen get-together. "Is that book so good that you can't put it down to talk to your old friends?"  
  
The doctor actually smiled back, although it was only for a short time. He tapped a brief command, and the screen went blank. "The writing is far inferior to your own," Jyou said dryly. Takeru knew the older man well enough to realize it was a compliment, despite the wry tone. Jyou brightened slightly. "Speaking of which, when's your next novel coming out?"  
  
Takeru rubbed his neck with his hand. "I'm having a brief tangle with writer's block...and so far, the Block is winning."  
  
Jyou's eyes widened slightly. "I thought that writing came naturally to you."  
  
"More naturally than anything else, really." That was a semi-true statement -- Takeru had never really envisioned himself as anything when growing up, prefering to focus on the now. When Hikari suggested in their second year of high school that he should start writing down the events of their youth before it had faded too far into the halls of history, he'd done so merely to oblige her -- but he'd found an unexpected pleasure in linking words together. By simply writing what he knew, he'd become an international best-selling author with his first novel before he'd graduated high school, and he'd continued on from there. "Don't worry, I'll finish before my deadline. I always do."  
  
"What's your latest novel about?"  
  
Takeru started recounting the plot to Jyou, who listened intently. Takeru's novels were not exact histories of the Chosen's times in the digital world -- while they were based on the events the Chosen Children had gone through, Takeru had added his own creative twist to what had actually happened. (Among other things, Takeru was cuter and wittier than any of the other Chosen actually remembered him being. Mercifully, none of them had ever called him on it.) It always amused Takeru when his stories were described as 'historical fiction' -- things that had happened to him twenty-five years ago weren't exactly like the dusty annoying books he always remembered hating reading in class.  
  
The strangest thing about his writing to Takeru himself was that he did have that unexpected gift of figuring out the emotions and inner turmoil of the characters he was writing. In almost all cases, the emotions of the characters matched perfectly with the actual emotions of the Chosen he was writing about. It worried him in a distant way. How am I able to do this so often? How am I able to get inside their heads?  
  
Is this how Hikari-chan feels?  
  
As he spoke with Jyou, Takeru's eyes automatically roamed the room to spot his son. Mori was surrounded by a group of the older children, including Jyou's son Shuten. Takeru was rather proud of how Mori acted; it takes a rare soul who can manage to grow up fairly normal when faced with a father who every so often would lock himself in his study with a bag full of popcorn, two pieces of dry toast, and a case of sodas, write like his life depended on it until three in the morning, and then sleep like the dead until noon. Even though Mori was the son of a single (and, Takeru admitted, somewhat eccentric) parent, he seemed to be turning out all right indeed.  
  
The rest of the party seemed to be slowly drifting into the dining room, and who was Takeru to resist the calls of fate? He and Jyou also made their way to the dining room. There were three tables. One was obviously for the digimon, judging by the lowered table legs and extra-large plates. (Takeru knew, without even thinking about it, the expressions of joy on the faces of the digimon.) The second was probably for the children, as Hitomi was sitting at its head. That left the third, centered table for the adult humans.   
  
Takeru sat down near the middle of the table between Iori on his left and Hikari on his right. Taichi sat across from him, his wife Umi sitting beside him. On Taichi's other side was Jyou.   
  
Koushirou sat at the head of the table, Miyako on one side, Sora on the other. Mikomi and Kakeru were apparently sitting at the adult table, as they sat next to their respective mothers. Izumi Satoe, Koushirou's mother, sat at the foot of the table, directly opposite her son. Reika, Iori's wife, sat between her and Iori.  
  
Takeru was fairly sure that Koushirou didn't have servants normally, but for tonight there were hired people placing dishes down and taking away the empty plates. Takeru wasn't sure of the term to use -- caterers, perhaps? The food was excellent. The wine served was even better. He ate and drank. And drank. The others were doing the same, as well. In some cases, they were over-indulging.  
  
As naturally as breathing, Takeru's mind slipped into Narrative Mode. His mind took in the scene around it and prepared it for a scene in one of his books. It was a pleasant feeling, as though his mind had been wrapped in a blanket and was free to dream...  
  
While to a casual observer the party might have seemed to be a success, invisible lines of tension ran through the room. Not even the best efforts of the cheerful Yagami siblings could get the tension to dispel. Conversation was muted and short.  
  
At the head of the table, Koushirou and Miyako looked as though they both regretted this party. Sora, however, was watching them intently, scrutinizing every word they said, as if the two of them together made up a puzzle she wanted to figure out.  
  
Panning down the table, only the two children, Mikomi and Kakeru, were speaking in their normal tones. Even then, their conversation was about trivial things: homework, favorite vid-books, some new pop artist. Taichi's face was going to be strained tomorrow with the effort of smiling so hard tonight.   
  
Perhaps the most worrying of all was Jyou. The self-proclaimed responsible man of the group, who rarely drank at all, had already downed six glasses of Koushirou's (very good) wine. Jyou was well-known for not being able to hold his liquor. Iori and Reika across from him looked very worried.  
  
A baby's shrill cry broke the uneasy silence. Miyako rose swiftly with hurried apologies and hurried over to the farthest corner of the room, where Ari had just woken up. She picked him up and started rocking him back and forth. Satoe disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
Jyou leaned forward, ending the awkward silence that had started with Miyako's departure. "So, Koushirou," he said in a too loud, slightly slurred tone. "When are you going to ask Miyako to marry you?"  
  
The room went dead silent. Even Ari quieted down, as if to wait for Koushirou's answer. Miyako slowed in her rocking, and then stopped, her purple hair falling in front of her face like a curtain.  
  
After an infinitely long pause, Koushirou answered. His voice was soft but carried to the far reaches of the room. "What makes you think I have any intention of marrying Miyako-san, Jyou?"   
  
"It's obvious," Jyou said, his face flushed. Hikari flinched at the venom in his tone. "The way you talk about her, the way that you smile whenever she's nearby, the way that you'd move heaven and earth to make her happy -- it's just like..." Jyou faltered. "You're so in love with her, it's not funny. Why haven't you asked her yet?"  
  
With a start, Takeru blinked, and realized that the events he'd thought he'd been dreaming up were actually happening. His lips moved silently as he gazed at Koushirou.   
  
Sora buried her face in her hands.   
  
Taichi looked at Jyou in alarm. "Hey, man, you're drunk."  
  
"Not drunk enough!" Jyou said with a horrible sort of false cheerfulness.  
  
"This is so...wrong..." Kakeru whispered.  
  
"How did he know?" Hikari said, equally as quiet.   
  
"Everyone should just calm down," Umi said authoritatively, although without much hope.  
  
"But is what Jyou-san said...true?" Reika asked, brown eyes wide.  
  
"I hope not," Iori said grimly.   
  
"I knew it!"  
  
Everyone looked to Mikomi, who had just shrilled the last line. She stood up.  
  
"I knew you liked my mother! I knew it! I bet she hates you now! You're never going to be my father, you stupid...you..."  
  
"Mikomi!" Hikari snapped, eyes wide.  
  
"Oneesama!" Osamu cried out from his place at the other table. All of the other children and digimon had been watching in silence.  
  
Kakeru pushed his chair back with such force it fell to the ground and dashed around the side of the table to Mikomi, who was ranting incomprehensibly. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she burst into tears, burying her head into his chest. Looking a bit confused, Kakeru patted her gently on the back and fixed his eyes on Koushirou, who had apparently frozen in his spot, a deer caught in headlights.  
  
"I..." breathed Koushirou. "I..."  
  
There was an audible thud as Jyou's head hit the table. With that, Koushirou made up his mind.  
  
"This party is over!" Koushirou roared, and stormed towards the stairs -- which happened to be in the corner Miyako was inhabiting.  
  
---  
  
Koushirou didn't know what had happened. At one minute, he'd just been having a slightly boring dinner party. In the next...Jyou had spilled to everyone that he was in love with Miyako.   
  
How did he even know in the first place? He was too upset to deal reasonably with anything right now. What he needed was to go to his office and work on something. Any project would do, he just had to do something, so that he didn't have to focus on...  
  
So that he didn't have to focus on Miyako who had stood up right in front of him, blocking his undignified exit. Ari was sitting in his booster seat again.  
  
"What do you want?" he snapped.  
  
Her bangs were covering her eyes, and her voice was low. "What Jyou said...was it...was it true?"  
  
Koushirou stared at her. In all the ways he'd imagined admitting his love for her -- some of them being rather, um, private -- he hadn't imagined this as being one of the ways.   
  
"Yes. It's true." She looked straight at him in disbelief. He met her eyes, then looked down -- it was too painful to stare at her. "I love you. Now let me through!"   
  
He pushed her, but gently -- not enough so that she'd fall, but enough for her to move. Then he slammed up the stairs and into his room, where he fell on the bed, not sure whether to cry or curse.  
  
---  
  
Miyako was silent for a few minutes, collecting her bearings.  
  
He...he...he can't be serious...he can't...Koushirou can't love me!   
  
"Iori. Hawkmon. Hikari." Her voice was rougher than she'd intended. "Please...please make sure my children get home safely."  
  
With that, she fled up the stairs, following Koushirou's path.   
  
  


Ah! I'm so evil, ending it there! Please review, and I'll get the next part out as soon as possible!


	6. Part 6

Welcome to the beginning of the end, everyone. ^_^ These next two parts are where everything starts working together. I also start including the digimon a little more -- I really find it hard to write from the digimons' perspectives most of the time, because most of them are really, really flat characters. Face it; Toei thinks that just because a character spends half of its time saying "__Insert name here!__ evolves!" means that it's just a simplified version of a three-year-old. However, I do start having the digimon play a slightly larger role than Toei lets them get. 

This fic isn't really doing as well as I'd hoped...reader-wise or review-wise...-_-;; I thought you people wanted to be writers! Must I bribe you all to get people to write a review? What's with this? Please, start reviewing or I'll get wrapped up in a snit and only write really depressing metaphysical original fics about how we're all going to die! 

...oh, dear, I'm just encouraging you all.

Anyway, I don't own Digimon or any of its trademarks. I'm also shamelessly borrowing usage of the English language from Merriam-Websters. (You people are so nice, letting everyone speak in English, without saying we're infringing on your copyrights...::sparkle::)

Kirai ni Narenai ~ I Can't Hate You  
Part Six   
by Rb

Once upon a time...  
  
There was a man, and a woman. And they lived together in happiness.  
  
And then there was a problem. The man was very quiet, while the woman was emotional to the max. While normally this worked out to the best in a balance, there was a time when it cracked.  
  
The two went off their seperate paths, and lived seperate lives from then on, until a chain of events was set off and the two were thrown together again.  
  
Two roads diverge in a wood all the time. That's the nature of roads in woods. What no one ever speaks about is how often those roads come back and become one.  
  
---  
  
Miyako placed her hand on the door that led to Koushirou's room and yanked it open.  
  
It was dim inside, the only light coming from a window; the harsh artificial light of a streetlamp. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a figure of a man lying prone on the bed.  
  
Miyako watched Koushirou's unmoving body for a long time.   
  
_He looks, _one part of her mind noted wryly,_ like a fairy-tale princess, waiting for the kiss of True Love to wake him up._  
  
In silence, she walked over to his bed and bent over him, her long violet hair falling on either side of her face. Now she could see the faint marks on his face that were from tears.  
  
With great precision, she bent closer to him, her hair falling in front of her face...  
  
...and rammed a fist in his gut.  
  
"Eeyurgh," said Koushirou wisely as his eyes flew open. "Itaaaai! Ow! Mi-Miyako!"  
  
"Sorry," Miyako said unrepentantly. "But you have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
"Ex...plain...ing?"  
  
"Yes." She sat down on the edge of the bed very primly, her legs crossed. Koushirou also sat up and clambered down to the edge of the bed next to her, leaving about a foot or so of space between them. She didn't look at him, nor he at her. He didn't offer to turn on the lights. Some things are better left in darkness.  
  
"So," he said.  
  
"So," she replied. "Were you being serious when you said you loved me?"  
  
Koushirou winced. "Why must you always go for the zinger?"  
  
"Because."  
  
"Oh. Well."   
  
There was a long silence.  
  
"Koushirou?"  
  
"Yes. I was."  
  
"You were what?" Miyako pressed.  
  
"I was...I was being serious when I said I loved you."  
  
It was Miyako's turn to be silent.  
  
"I do love you, you know. I have for years. I just couldn't say it," said Koushirou, uncomfortable with the current quiet. "I mean, you're just so...so enthusiastic, and outgoing, and emotional, and you're everything I'm not, yet you click so well with me, like a key to my lock. But I couldn't say it, because...because I was afraid, because it was too soon, because I thought -- "  
  
Miyako turned to him and kissed him briefly, deeply, on the lips.  
  
" -- well, never mind," Koushirou finished.   
  
"You idiot," said Miyako affectionately -- at least, he trusted it was affectionately -- and kissed him again. This time he took advantage of her closeness to wrap both arms around her and bring her even closer. Her slender body still felt very much the same as it had nearly twenty years ago, warm and responsive in his grip.  
  
Fire raced up and down his body, spreading wherever Miyako's hands touched him. Even though his clothes, he could feel her delicate fingers racing around his neck, getting snagged on the chain he wore...  
  
...the chain that held the key to his office, and to the computer within...  
  
...his world hiccuped to a stop. _What if this is all a setup? What if all she wants is to see Ken's memoirs? What if this is all a game, and she's just faking this?_  
  
Koushirou backed away from the woman. His fingers groped around his neck and undid the chain, clenching the key in his hand.  
  
"What's wrong, Koushirou?" asked Miyako, surprised.  
  
He glared at her, opened his fist, and displayed the key. "This is what you want. Not me."   
  
"What?!" Miyako snapped, startled  
  
"This key unlocks the door to my office. The computer's on. Ken's memoirs are open already."  
  
"But -- " Miyako's mind caught up to what was actually happening. "But -- wait, what about the passwords? You never told me -- "  
  
Koushirou refused to meet her eyes. "There are no precautions. That was all a smokescreen. I...Ken never said anything about you not being allowed to read them. I wanted...I wanted to protect you, I suppose. It doesn't really matter anymore." He dropped the key onto the bed, stood up, and stalked out of the room.   
  
Miyako sat, shocked. Her eyes went from the key on the bed to the door. What to do? Satisfy her burning curiosity about Ken, or find Koushirou?  
  
Wracked in indecision, she tried to assimilate what had just happened, but failed. _What should I do?...  
  
...what would _Koushirou_ do?_  
  
She stared at the key for some time more.  
  
And made her choice.  
  
---  
  
About five seconds after Koushirou stormed out of the room, he realized that he'd just quite neatly locked himself out of his own room.  
  
"Crap," he muttered, running a hand through his slightly rumpled red hair.   
  
Well. This house was too big as it was, and there were about half a dozen unoccupied bedrooms. He could sleep in one of them for tonight.  
  
He had a pounding headache starting already._ Shouldn't the hangover symptoms wait until AFTER I've had a chance to sleep?_  
  
What he felt like doing right then was playing the piano. Koushirou used the piano like how others might have used exercise, or writing, or singing karaoke -- to get rid of the feelings that really had no place in his life.  
  
The only problem was that the piano was in the dining room. Stragglers from his (utterly miserable) party might still be hanging around. His mother might still be there.   
  
Oh, well. He'd risk it. Besides, everyone should have gotten the idea that the party was over, especially since he'd been absent for...he checked his watch...an hour!  
  
_Time really _can_ fly when you're having fun._ He squashed the sarcastic voice inside his head. Surely everyone would have gone by now. Surely they would have realized it was over. Surely...  
  
...of course, Hida Iori was standing in the dining room, with a very unamused look on his handsome face.  
  
Koushirou tried smiling, but found that smiles -- or any other expression -- felt extremely fake. "Hello, Iori."  
  
"Koushirou-san." Iori inclined his head. "What did you think you were doing tonight?"  
  
"Having a dinner party?" Koushirou hazarded. From the look of disapproval on Iori's face, he knew it was the wrong answer.  
  
Iori sighed. He looked the older man straight in the eyes and spoke to him as if Koushirou was no older than Hitomi. "Having a dinner party is one thing. Storming out of the dinner party, and secluding yourself with a woman you have, in the past, had feelings for, in an undisclosed room -- "  
  
"You make it sound like I had her in handcuffs, or chained to the dungeon wall," Koushirou snapped, nettled. "It was only my bedroom."  
  
Iori's face turned even grimmer, and Koushirou realized that he wasn't helping the situation much. "I think I have a right to know what you're doing with my best friend," Iori returned. "Especially because she's recently widowed. I hope you haven't been taking advantage of her or anything."  
  
"It's not like we had _sex_, Iori!" Koushirou shouted.  
  
Iori looked scandalized. "What _did_ you do, then?"  
  
Koushirou sobered. "We...talked."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And...and kissed."  
  
Iori tensed. Koushirou remembered that Iori was quite a few inches taller and about three times as strong as the rather scrawny and short computer expert. If Iori wanted to, he could break every bone in Koushirou's body without breaking a sweat. And Iori probably did want to. Iori was incredibly loyal and protective towards his friends, including Miyako. Especially Miyako.  
  
Koushirou was, understandably, not eager for this to happen. "Can I explain?"  
  
Iori pursed his lips. His green eyes were studying Koushirou like an entomologist would study an interesting species of bug. "Go ahead."  
  
Koushirou tried to summarize his thoughts and emotions into something that Iori would understand. Iori, too, carried the burden of knowledge. Iori also liked to have things make sense. Iori would like...  
  
Suddenly, Koushirou had a revelation. Sometimes, things don't have to make sense. Sometimes, things are unorderly. Sometimes, things just are, and don't have to be explained. Like the wind and the waves. Love.   
  
Music.  
  
Koushirou strode over to the piano and started playing, his eyes unfocused. Although Iori didn't know it, it was the same piece that Koushirou'd played earlier for Miyako and the others. There was only one difference, though -- he went on, past the place he'd stopped with the others. The chords grew faster, louder, crashing into each other, tumbling over one another, yet somehow not clashing. Finally, when the music had reached the climax, Koushirou lifted his fingers from the keys, waited a beat, and then slammed them down randomly, creating a terrible noise.  
  
After the last notes had faded away, Koushirou locked eyes with Iori. "That's your explanation."  
  
"That was...beautiful, until the very end," Iori said. "But...who wrote it? I've never heard it before."  
  
"I did."  
  
"What's it called?"  
  
"It's my life," Koushirou answered simply.  
  
---  
  
When Miyako left Koushirou's room, her face was a pale, scared white. She looked around the hallways desperately, searching for Koushirou. She didn't want to see him, yet she needed to talk to him. Scream at him. Cry on his shoulder. All of the above.   
  
_He _lied_ to me. He lied...they _both_ lied to me...for all these years, too. Was all of his kindness these past months been through pity? All of _his_ affection been a lie?_  
  
"Miyako-san?"  
  
The polite voice nearly made Miyako scream. Miyako turned around and saw, to her dismay, the figure of Izumi Satoe. Koushirou's mother.  
  
"If you don't want to be seen by Koushirou and Iori-san, I'd suggest going out the back way," Satoe advised, smiling obliquely. "I've already called a cab to take you home. It should be here soon. Reika-san and Hikari-san already took home your children."  
  
The older woman's kindness was enough to break Miyako's thin control, and she burst into tears. "Thank you," Miyako whispered brokenly. "Thank you." Miyako awkwardly removed her glasses and wiped her eyes.   
  
Satoe studied Miyako's face. Without her glasses, Miyako looked much younger, like the girl who her son had dated nearly twenty years ago. At one time, Satoe had hoped that Miyako would be the mother of her, Satoe's, grandchildren. Then Miyako had broken her son's heart, and Satoe had hated Miyako -- hated her because she'd hurt her child, and a mother's love is always, always, fiercely protective.  
  
And now, what to do? Satoe had called a cab because she knew Miyako would need one -- she certainly wouldn't be staying the entire night as Satoe'd half-hoped, not with Koushirou storming out like that. Satoe didn't have a mean bone in her body, but to someone who'd crushed her son like that...  
  
Satoe thought about the night that her baby boy had died. It was from a rare disease that she'd never heard of before. She'd been in shock for weeks, and had vowed never to forget the name of the disease which had robbed her of her baby.  
  
That was forty years ago. Now she couldn't remember the name of the disease, the name of the doctor she'd spoken to...or even the name she'd given her child. Time heals wounds, slowly, sadly. The wound of her child dying. The wound of her child's pain.   
  
Satoe searched in herself for anger or resentment towards the crying woman in front of her, but found only compassion and empathy.   
  
Satoe opened her arms and embraced Miyako in a warm, maternal hug. Miyako accepted her comfort. For a brief, private moment they were linked in the most intimate way possible -- not through sweat or blood, but through tears.  
  
They broke apart, and Miyako replaced her glasses on her face, murmuring a quiet "thank you." She felt like she should say something to the older woman, but knew if she started talking, she'd start talking too much. She's start talking about everything that her mind had not quite assimilated yet.   
  
"The cab will be here soon," Satoe said after a moment. "I'll show you the back way."  
  
Quietly, Miyako followed her.  
  
The cab ride home was uneventful, the driver perfectly content to drive in silence. Miyako thought about visiting Iori and Reika, so that they'd be aware that she was okay, but was suddenly too tired to even think about talking to them.   
  
The apartment's lights were on, and Hawkmon was waiting for her when she came in the door. Miyako opened her mouth to speak, but Hawkmon held up a feathery finger -- or his equivalent, anyway.  
  
"The children are all safe at Iori-san's apartment. I don't want you to talk to me right now," Hawkmon said, his blue eyes gentle as he looked at his partner. "I know you've been through a lot, and I know you feel very overwhelmed right now, but I'm really not the right person to talk to right now. Go to sleep, Miyako-san. In the morning, we'll talk."  
  
"...thank you, Hawkmon."  
  
She went to her room, undressed, and pulled on pajamas. She fell asleep, with the events of the day and the words of Ken's memoirs marching around in her head.  
  
_"By doing this, I'm going to be living a lie...I'm used to it by now..."  
  
"But I can't _not_ do this, I have to...my happiness doesn't matter..."  
  
"I'll marry Miyako...even if she's not the one I love..."  
  
"The one I love..."  
  
"The one I love..."  
  
"I love..." _  
  
Mercifully, a deeper sleep claimed her at that point, and her thoughts -- and tears -- ceased.  
  
---  
  
_Ow._  
  
Kido Jyou's entire world at the moment could be summed up with that exclamation. Actually, his whole world could be several rather more vulgar epiphets, but 'Ow' was pretty accurate, as far as Jyou was concerned.  
  
His entire world was, currently, a pulsing pain that spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toenails. Even his earlobes throbbed.  
  
"I think he's waking up. Having fun, Jyou?" said a very high-pitched, cheerful, and above all LOUD voice. Jyou opened his eyes -- and, groaning, closed them. _No sudden movements for a while, Jyou. Not unless you really want to puke all over the bed._  
  
"Hush, Gomamon," said a second person, this one quieter and recognizeably male. "Jyou's suffering from a hangover. He needs people to be quiet and not disturb him."  
  
"Hangover? Jyou? This is a cause for a celebration! He's finally a real man!" Jyou felt something warm nudge his arm. It shot waves of pain through his entire body. "Jyou! JYOU! You okay in there?"  
  
Jyou had a very rude comment to reply to that, but luckily (or unluckily) he'd apparently lost control of his speech centers, and it came out as "mrgplx."  
  
"JYOU!" shouted Gomamon happily. "He's awake! This is so great!" Gomamon started bouncing up and down on the bed. Jyou could feel the bile rising in his throat.  
  
He was so sure Gomamon was doing this on purpose.  
  
"Gomamon," came the second voice. Jyou recognized Takeru's amused tones. "Maybe you should stay back a little..."  
  
"C'mon! Celebrate!" Gomamon chanted, continuing to bounce. "Jyou's a man! Now all we have to do is find some whores and go screw them!"  
  
Luckily, Takeru had some foresight, and when Jyou actually did throw up, Takeru had a small trash can waiting to hold it all.  
  
Gomamon shot him a look of distaste. "You know, Jyou, if you can't handle the booze, you probably can't handle the whores. This new manly you is still pretty much a wimp."  
  
"Shut up," Jyou moaned. "Not -- "  
  
"Any second now, he's going to say 'not in front of the children,'" Gomamon informed Takeru. "Well, guess what, JYOU? Shuten's not hee~eere, he's with Hikari, and Takeru's not a child any more! So! I! Get! To! Say! What! Ever! I! Want!"  
  
Jyou felt as though his head was wrapped in a fog. He ignored his digimon, who was currently doing some sort of boogie on the space next to him. "Takeru, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Well, in the state you were in, you couldn't get home by yourself, even with Gomamon's help. The little guy was pretty far gone, himself."  
  
"Hey, at least I can hold my liquor!" Gomamon squealed indignantly.  
  
Takeru continued as if there hadn't been an interruption. "So I helped you get home, while Hikari-chan organized an impromptu sleepover for the older boys."  
  
Jyou thought back to last night. It was hard forming thoughts, almost an actual physical effort. Had he _really_ had that much to drink? And had he really..._oh, my_...  
  
"What happened to Miyako?" Jyou asked thickly.  
  
Takeru's tone was grim. "She...stayed later than I did. I don't know when she left."  
  
"Bet she didn't leave at all!" Gomamon announced happily. "Bet they're still in his room going at it like rabbits!"  
  
Takeru and Jyou turned identical shades of green.  
  
"Thank you for that unnecessarily vivid image, Gomamon," Jyou managed to say.  
  
"Who's thanking him?" said an unsettled Takeru.  
  
"Do you think that's what happened, though?" asked Jyou, in a quieter tone.  
  
Takeru shrugged and ran a head through his blond hair. "Who knows? Probably not. Hikari-chan couldn't get through to Miyako all night, though. Something must have happened."  
  
"This is all my fault," Jyou said. The weight of the hangover was increased by the familiar weight of his guilt. "I was such an idiot."  
  
"Mm," said Takeru -- not disagreeing, Jyou noticed wryly. "Why were you so...direct?"  
  
Jyou wondered if he could erase the events of last night through willpower alone. Apparently not. He sighed. "I...this is so stupid, but...I was jealous."  
  
Gomamon stopped bouncing.  
  
"Jealous?" Takeru questioned.  
  
"I...I...you know, if Koushirou'd had his way, he would have had Miyako completely devoted to him by the end of the mourning year, and they would have been married after a year or so, some reasonable time, and everything would have worked out all right for them, and you know it. And they would have been happy. But for every happy person, there are two people who are desperately unhappy. And I've...always been the person who suffers as a result of other people's happiness, and..."  
  
"And?" Takeru repeated, probing gently into Jyou's deepest wounds.  
  
"And...Koushirou was needling me, not really on purpose, about how I mope because Mimi's no longer with me. And I...that hurts, more than he knows. Because I do miss her, and I do wish that she and I were still married. But..."  
  
"But?"  
  
"I don't like how he gets a second chance, while I never will." Jyou sighed again. "I keep thinking, what if, what if..."  
  
Gomamon nudged his head under Jyou's heavy hand. "You can't build on 'what ifs', Jyou," he said softly. "You have to build on happier tomorrows."  
  
"I know," Jyou said. "But sometimes, I doubt if any tomorrows will be worth being happy in."  
  
---  
  
Hawkmon watched carefully as Miyako slept. He loved her, after all, and there is very little more rewarding than being able to watch someone you love sleep.  
  
Sometimes Hawkmon had to wonder at the responses he got when he said he loved Miyako. People seemed to find it strange or weird that he had such strong feelings for his partner -- even some digimon didn't understand the bond that was between the two of them.   
  
Something that Miyako had said one day when she was a teen had stuck in Hawkmon's heart:  
  
"If you have love for someone, why hold it selfishly in your own heart, where no one but yourself can feel it?" she'd said passionately. "It's better to let everyone know, especially that special person you like best in the world! It's not like it can hurt you in anyway, and to that special person, it'll make all the world of a difference!"  
  
Of course, she'd gone off and confessed her latest crush to the boy-of-the-week the next day, and she'd been horribly crushed and ranted for three hours about how stupid the male gender was -- "'cept for you, Hawkmon, and Iori, and Takeru-kun and Ken-kun, and sometimes Daisuke -- but only sometimes!" -- but the principle itself was sound.  
  
Hawkmon had considered Miyako's statement, found it to be true, and had thusly confessed his love for the special person he liked best in the world -- Miyako. Miyako had smiled and said "I love you, too."  
  
To her credit, Miyako had been right. Knowing Hawkmon really, truly, loved her had bolstered her self-confidence. Miyako vowed to only give her love to those who were capable of matching Hawkmon's love for her. It didn't exactly cut down on the number of crushes Miyako had, but it did crank up the quality a notch or two. And all of Miyako's serious boyfriends had their own digimon partners, understood the relationship between Miyako and Hawkmon, and did their best to love Miyako with the same simple devotion Hawkmon did.  
  
It was just the people who didn't understand the words "ai shiteru," I love you, which really caused the problem. The words 'ai shiteru' were always overused by people who didn't realize what it meant. Saying you love someone doesn't mean that you want their body or that you want someone else for your own sake. It means that you want someone else to _be_.  
  
Hawkmon had been created for the purpose of protecting Miyako and saving the digital world. He hadn't really had a choice in either -- it was his destiny. The latter...he'd never really questioned his duty. But the moment he first protected Miyako -- not because he had to, but because he wanted to -- in that split-second, he had loved her. And he would continue to love her, forever.  
  
Miyako stirred. Hawkmon was at her side in a second.  
  
"...uh...uh...Hawkmon?" Miyako sleepily muttered. "Head...hurts."  
  
"Here's some painkillers," Hawkmon said instantly.  
  
"Than'you," Miyako mumbled, swallowing them. Hawkmon watched her face intently.   
  
After a few minutes, Miyako screamed, "I can't believe that -- OW!"  
  
"I guess your memory of last night is coming back," Hawkmon said sympathetically. "It's about time you woke up. I was getting worried."  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Almost eleven."  
  
"I've gotta call Hikari! And Sora!"  
  
"They've already called. They're going to be busy this afternoon." Miyako's face fell. "But! I didn't call Mimi-san yet." Miyako's face instantly brightened. For you, Miyako, I would move the world, just so that your smile would always be there...  
  
"Time difference...uhh...oh, to hell with that, Mimi won't care if I wake her up, as long as it's mee...Hawkmon! Where's the vidphone?"  
  
"On your bedstand..."  
  
"...oh." Miyako snatched it up and dialed.  
  
---  
  
Mimi was awake, but preparing for sleep. Her face was encased in the green facial mask that Palmon had recommended, so she didn't turn on her viewing screen. "Hello, Tachikawa residence, who is it?"  
  
"Mimi?"   
  
"...Miyako!?" She covered up the mouthpiece and whispered (as capable as Mimi was of whispering), "it's MIYAKO!"  
  
"Yes, Mimi, I guessed," Palmon smiled.  
  
Mimi turned her attention back to the phone.   
  
"I'm so glad I could reach you, Mimi. I really have to talk to you. As soon as possible."  
  
Mimi touched a finger to her facial mask. It would be hard in a few minutes, and then her complexion would be youthfully smooth and -- what was Palmon's wording? -- looking like a flower just after a rainfall! Add in time for makeup and hair, and...  
  
"I can be ready for viewing in half an hour." Behind her, Palmon facevaulted. "Shawn's with his dad, and Carl's...well, I'm free of any obligations, let me tell you! Where do you want to meet?"  
  
"The digital world." Miyako thought for a moment. "I know! Meet me at the gate cloest to Digitamamon's restaurant!"  
  
"Okay!"  
  
"See ya!"  
  
---  
  
The digital world was even more beautiful, Palmon thought, than in the days when Mimi and the others had had to fight to save it. The vegetation was lusher, the water crystal-clear, the whole land filled with an aura of peace. The butterflies rushing to and fro on the madcap breeze only added to the effect.  
  
Mimi hadn't done too badly, Palmon judged. She was only fifteen minutes late. The pair of them strolled to meet Miyako and Hawkmon under the bright digital world sun. Palmon could feel her flower petals freshening._ It's close to noon_. Japan time, right? She liked the digital world sunshine and peace much better than the harsh neon lights and smog of New York City.  
  
_Maybe I can tell Mimi how much I dislike being cramped in that apartment, and when we're not filming for our TV show, we can travel the digital world, like we did when we were kids. Or maybe we can visit the rainforest again -- that was _sooo_ much fun! And we could visit all of our friends in Japan, we barely ever get to see them anymore, 'cept for Daisuke..._  
  
Palmon was off in her daydream and didn't notice that the others were already entering the restaurant until Mimi embarrassedly yanked her inside.  
  
"What do you want?" Hawkmon asked the others, hovering over the order pad attached to the table.  
  
"Hmm. I'll take a black tea," Miyako decided.  
  
"Fat-free hot chocolate for me," Mimi said cheerfully. "Too late for anything else."  
  
"Sparkling water," Palmon said a bit sheepishly. She didn't like the taste of anything else, it seemed so unnatural and..._icky_.  
  
Hawkmon punched in the order, adding another tea for himself. In a few moments, the order appeared through a small door in the table. Digitamamon had gone through a lot of improvements over the years, and -- far from being the struggling, mean-tempered restaurant manager Yamato and Jyou had run into all those years ago -- was now one of the richest digimon in the entire world.  
  
Even though the Chosen didn't get to eat for free, they did get a three percent discount on their meals, as penance for the times that the Chosen had saved him from being controlled from evil spires and his restaurant from destruction.  
  
"So," Mimi said, after a sip from the delicious cocoa. "What happened, Miyako?"  
  
Miyako stirred her tea, collecting her thoughts. "It started with...with Koushirou's job offer, I guess."  
  
"You accepted it, didn't you?" Mimi asked, perplexed at this interest in 'ancient history'.   
  
"I didn't...not at first. I was going to refuse...I did refuse. But...Ken had left Koushirou a package, and he...hadn't left me one." Intent on her tea, Miyako didn't see the slight widening of Mimi's eyes, or the guilty knowledge that had crept onto her face. "Koushirou's package was Ken's memoirs. Koushirou said...he said Ken had requested that I wait a year before looking at it, and the only way I would be able to see it after that year was to work for him."   
  
"He blackmailed you?" Mimi gasped, surprised.  
  
"It felt like that...but at the same time, I didn't feel...anything. I mean, I didn't feel anything bad." Miyako looked up and met Mimi's eyes. "He was genuinely sincere about giving me the job...he didn't want it for any bad reasons, just to help me. He wanted to help me, and...I didn't see it before." The younger woman looked very close to tears. Hawkmon placed a comforting wing around Miyako's shoulders.  
  
Palmon finished a gulp of her water and watched Miyako intently. "So...what happened? It sounded like you liked your job a great deal."  
  
"I did! He really respected me, and made me feel like I was important. And he was kind, and he cared about my children...he gave me advice about how to treat Mikomi when I had problems dealing with her, and he never minded when Ari cried, and he was able to give very accurate diagnoses...I don't know if that's the right word...about how Osamu acted, and he let the kids stay with him while I was working, and he was just such a great help..."   
  
"He sounds practically perfect," Mimi said with a slight trace of bitterness in her tone. She twisted her hands, and Miyako noticed for the first time the absence of a wedding ring on her fingers. "What was the problem?"  
  
"Last night, he threw a 'quiet' dinner party for me, so that I wouldn't be alone on the six-months' anniversary of Ken's death, even though I didn't request one. He invited all of the other Chosen. And..at first he was alone with Sora, and then Sora was joking with me, but she wasn't being funny, you know? And there was too much wine being served, and...and...Jyou..." Mimi jerked slightly. "...he...he accused Koushirou of loving me."  
  
Mimi's jaw dropped. Palmon looked similarly dumbstruck.  
  
"Did..does he?" Mimi asked after an eternity of silence. Hawkmon turned to Miyako, waiting for the answer.  
  
Miyako turned pink and looked at her black tea as if it held all the answers in the universe. "Yes."  
  
Palmon couldn't help it -- she squealed. "And what do you feel, Miyako?"   
  
Hawkmon's gaze grew all the more intense as he stared at his partner.   
  
"I..I feel like..." Miyako stammered. She stirred her black tea again, as if receiving strength from it. "I feel like...like I could look at him for an eternity and never get bored. Like he could look at me forever and I'd never feel embarrassed. In fact, I...I want him to. I want him to look at me and only me, in some desperate way. I want him to have me in my thoughts. I want...I want..." She could not finish her thought out loud. _I want him to hold me in his arms and never let go..._  
  
Gentle fingers wiped away tears Miyako hadn't realized she was crying. Mimi smiled kindly at the younger woman. "What do you feel about him?"  
  
"I...I love him." An instant wave of guilt washed over her -- _so fast do you forget the one you were wedded to for years!_ -- and an instant flare of anger matched it -- _I was never the one he wanted, I'm justified. _  
  
"That's not it, though," Miyako choked out.  
  
"Miyako-san?" Hawkmon asked concernedly.  
  
"We...in his bedroom, we...I followed him when he stalked out, and I followed him to his bedroom." Hawkmon looked scandalized. "We didn't...we just...we kissed, but...it would have been more, but...I...my fingers brushed the chain of the key, and he must have thought -- "  
  
"The key to what?" Mimi queried.  
  
"The key to his office. The key to the computer which Ken's memoirs were stored on. He...he was upset, and he let me into the room...he gave me the key..the memoirs were open on the screeen."  
  
"You read Ken's memoirs?" Mimi asked, worry making her voice shriller than normal.  
  
Miyako met Mimi's eyes. "Yes. I read them. I think you know what was in them, yes?"  
  
Mimi nodded wordlessly. "I'm so sorry, Miyako."  
  
Hawkmon and Palmon looked at their partners inquisitively. "We don't know," pointed out Palmon with infinite tact.  
  
Miyako smiled a bit wistfully at the plant digimon. "Ken...he...he wasn't in love with me. He was in love with a different person. But he married me out of necessity, anyway. And he never let me know he loved someone else...I only discovered that last night, and it's...very painful to talk about." Indeed, Miyako sipped her black tea and looked as though she wished she was somewhere else.  
  
The conversation drifted onto other things at that point, but nothing very important. In a few minutes, Miyako was claiming other duties to attend to, and after promises to call and e-mail if anything happened, the four split up.  
  
When Palmon and Mimi were back in their apartment, Palmon finally voiced the question she'd been thinking about. "Mimi, was the person that Ken loved...Daisuke?"  
  
Mimi looked shocked. "Ye~es...how did you know?"  
  
"Because Daisuke moved away from Japan just weeks after Miyako and Ken's wedding. I always thought that the events were connected."  
  
"You were right. Weddings do have some unexpected reprecussions." Mimi looked very thoughtful, and after a moment's pause, Palmon retired to her own room to do some thinking herself. 

To be continued. Aren't I a rat? Anyway, there's still another part in which I have to wrap this up! Will Koushirou and Miyako stop dithering? Why did Sora and Yamato divorce, anyhow? What's going to happen to poor Dai-san? Does anyone remember all of the childrens' names? I'll give anyone who can (without looking in one of the earlier parts, cheaters!) a brownie! ^_-


	7. Part 7

Whee! It's the last part! ::dances:: I have to admit, this part contains a few subplots which were mostly squelched in the actual story. I did throw out enough subplots which could have -- and might yet still -- make another story...but that's for another day. 

I hope you all enjoy this part, however cliched parts might seem. ^_^;; I think that by the time someone reaches this part, they either really liked the story or they're really masochistic. Or this is MST-fodder. ::worries::

The line Hikari quotes is actually a song lyric. ^_^ The song is 'Inoru you ni, Ai Shiteru' (it translates to 'Like a prayer, I love you', roughly) and it's Fushigi Yuugi's Miaka-chan who sings the song. Miaka's seiyuu is Araki Kae, who also performs Hikari's voice...the song has always reminded me of Hikari, for that reason. I love that song. If anyone has the karaoke for it, I'll trade for it...err...I'll also send the song to anyone who wants it. ^_^

Anyway. Enjoy my representations of Toei's characters! ^_^

Kirai ni Narenai~I Can't Hate You~  
Part Seven  
by Rb

Sora didn't really feel like going out to lunch, even with Yagami Hikari. She was worried sick about Miyako, and had wanted to keep her schedule open in case Miyako needed her.   
  
But Hikari...well, both Yagami siblings had this way about them. Daisuke had summed it up the best, really:  
  
"When either of them looks at you, really, really, looks at you, you feel like you'd damn well better do 'zactly as they want, or else you're just an utter asshole."  
  
His language was a bit crude, but Sora agreed with his meaning. When Hikari Requested her presence at lunch, Sora accepted it without question.  
  
She wasn't expecting Yagami Taichi and Ishida Yamato already sitting at the table set for four.  
  
"Hikari, what have you set me up for?" Sora demanded under her breath. Hikari paid no attention and sat in the nearest seat, leaving Sora to the last empty seat.  
  
Sora had Yagami siblings at either side of her. _Caging me in_, she thought ruefully. Directly across from her was Yamato. She refused to make eye contact with him. She didn't want to speak with him. Wished she wasn't so intimately aware of his presence.  
  
"So, sis, glad you could make it," Taichi winked at Hikari.  
  
Hikari smiled back. "I'm always here for you, big brother." The two siblings started chatting about a variety of different trivial topics. Neither Sora nor Yamato spoke.   
  
"All right. Let's eat! Sora? What do you want to eat?" Taichi asked finally, one finger poised over the order pad.   
  
Sora contemplated the menu. "I'd like -- "  
  
"She wants a black tea and cucumber salad," Yamato cut in.  
  
Sora looked up in surprise. Yamato's blue eyes were distant, focused on the wall behind her. "That was always your favorite, after all," he noted coolly.  
  
"Then you'll have a black tea, as well. You liked it just as much as I did," Sora shot back, keeping her tone a shade frostier than Yamato's. "And a big, rare, American-style steak, because you know how much I hate looking at them."  
  
Was that a smile on his lips? No, couldn't be. "Exactly right."  
  
Hikari pushed a strand of light brown hair behind her ear and effectively dissipated the building tension between the former lovers. "A salad for me, as well. And some fruit juice. I'm not very hungry."   
  
"You don't eat enough," groused Taichi.  
  
"You eat enough for me, big brother," Hikari smiled sweetly.  
  
"Yeah," Taichi admitted ruefully, and studied the menu. "Hmm. Everything looks so good. I'll have...onion rings, a hot dog, nah, make that two, cheese fries, ketchup, a Coke, maybe an eggroll, and...hmm...they have lasagna! All right! That too!"  
  
Hikari smiled, a little embarrassed at her sibling's vacuum-cleaner habits. "'Niichan...Agumon's not here to help you eat."  
  
"Hmm. You're right. No eggroll."  
  
He punched in the order and waited. A few minutes later, the food started coming out of a small window in the side of the wall.   
  
Taichi attacked his meal(s), utterly unchanged from when he was eleven when it came to food. Sora smiled tenderly at her best friend. Her eyes shifted of their own will to Yamato, who had the same look of fond amusement on his face.  
  
Their eyes met. Instantly, his face lost any expression and he jammed his steak knife into his own meal.   
  
Sora sipped her tea and felt the bitter taste roll around her mouth.  
  
"Hey, Sora?" Taichi said around a mouthful of...Sora didn't even want to know what he was eating at the moment.  
  
"Yes?" Sora asked politely, and took another sip of her tea.  
  
"What IS your grudge against Yamato, anyway?"   
  
It took all of Sora's self-control not to spit her tea across the table. She looked desperately to Hikari for help in covering up Taichi's terrble _faux pas_, but Hikari was studying her salad with intense -- and, Sora realized, totally fake -- interest. A horrible idea wormed into Sora's head.  
  
_I was set up. By the _Yagami _siblings._  
  
"Can we discuss this some other time?" Sora asked, pitching her voice low.  
  
"Now would be as good a time as any," Taichi shrugged.  
  
Sora chanced a glance at Yamato. His eyes, too, were focused on his meal. Sora glanced down at his plate and gulped as she noticed the steak was being hacked into tiny shreds.  
  
"Because he lied to me," Sora whispered.   
  
Yamato's knife clattered to the table.  
  
"How so?" Taichi asked, his attention now entirely focused on Sora.   
  
"He...he said he would never leave me. And then he did." Sora felt herself curl up and grow smaller as the words left her mouth. She felt as though she was growing younger, no longer the self-assured woman but the conflicted tomboyish girl.  
  
No one spoke for a moment.  
  
"I never left you," Yamato said, his low voice piercing the silence. "I never..."  
  
"You left me for a year and a half. Touma wasn't even born, and you just abandoned me." The words fell like ice chips, shattering as they touched the air.  
  
"I told you when we were children about how my dream has always been to be among the stars. I can't let go of my dreams for anyone, not even you."  
  
"So, your dream is to be totally isolated from the rest of the world, even the people whom you love most?" Sora snapped.  
  
"That's not fair!"  
  
"Neither are you!"  
  
"Calm down!" shouted Taichi. "You two are such idiots, you know? And you're supposed to be my best friends...friendship and love, huh. You don't even know the meaning of the words."  
  
Both Yamato and Sora looked shocked at Taichi's outburst.  
  
"What my brother was trying to say," Hikari inserted sweetly, but with a hint of steel in her voice, "is that neither of you are acting like friends or lovers. In fact, you're both acting stupidly. Please stop it."  
  
Sora bit her lip and forced herself to relax. She wished Piyomon was with her. Piyomon was the person who understood her the best, who realized exactly why Sora had divorced from Yamato. He didn't care, period, he couldn't care about her the way she loved him, the way she always had and always will, if he'd abandon her when she was barely a month pregnant to go up to some dead rock in space...he couldn't care about her, then, if that's how he could treat her, as someone who could be thrown away for his dream...she'd always included him in her dream, always.  
  
But Piyomon wasn't here. Piyomon had wanted to come, but couldn't; she'd had a previous engagement, a 'date' if you would phrase it so crudely, and who said that digimon couldn't have lives outside their partners? Not Sora, no, no, no, Piyomon, have a great time, don't worry about me.  
  
"So, Yamato," Hikari said casually. "Why did you leave Sora?"  
  
"She divorced me," he muttered.  
  
"Seperated," Sora corrected. "Trial seperation."  
  
"Like that means a thing."  
  
"I don't mean the divorce. You got this offer to go up into space, why did you accept it?" Hikari needled. Sora looked from Hikari to Taichi. Taichi's attention was concentrated on his second hot dog, which was smothered in ketchup and mustard and relish and..._yuuuuck_.  
  
_So this isn't just for me. It's for Yamato as well. Who needs counseling, when you have the Yagami family nearby?_  
  
"I...it was offered," Yamato said slowly. "I would have been an idiot not to have accepted the offer, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."  
  
"Was going up into space that important to you?" Hikari wondered.  
  
"It wasn't just going up into space, it was being able to be in space. To be among the stars. To...it was an experience that...even if Sora will never forgive me for it, it was worth it." Yamato deliberately let his eyes trail over Sora's face, which was as frozen as a marble statue.  
  
"You said it was your dream to be among the stars. Wasn't it was your dream to be a rock star?" Hikari said, confused. _Probably an act_, Sora thought distantly.   
  
"Well, I was that," Yamato answered after a few moments. "A man's dream can change."  
  
"I, personally, always thought your dream was to have a family that wasn't ripped into pieces," Hikari shrugged casually, and delicately ate a bite of her salad. "I could be wrong, though."  
  
Yamato flushed an angry red. "Why haven't you married my little brother yet, Hikari?"  
  
Hikari froze. _A hit, a hit_, Sora thought frantically.   
  
"That's not the point," Hikari protested. "Your brother loved Hanae. I wouldn't stand in their way. You...you love Sora. But you can't admit it because you're too proud."  
  
Yamato looked as though he was about to snap something, but Sora cut him off.  
  
"You used to sing," she said quietly. "Did I stop you from singing?"  
  
It was Yamato's turn to freeze in place. "I...no, Sora, that's not true."  
  
She went on as if she hadn't heard him. "If it is, then...just tell me."   
  
Sora was the original bearer of love. In the time she'd held it, she'd evolved many theories about it, just like Miyako had. Unlike Miyako, she'd never really understood the passion of it, the overwhelming aspects. The love that Sora understood best was the slow, quiet, steady love that bloomed in one's heart, the love that could never be forced to anyone, the love that only blossomed when given freely and without question.  
  
Words formed in her mind, words that sounded oddly like Piyomon's tender voice was speaking them. If you love someone, don't drive them away. Don't turn your love into something difficult. Don't let your own emotions confuse him. Let him speak without being interrupted, let yourself feel and not fight, and you'll form a love that can't be broken!  
  
"Sora, I...I won't let you believe that. I..." Yamato looked frustrated. "Taichi, Hikari, can you excuse us for a moment?" Without waiting for permission, he'd already stood up and walked Sora away from the table.  
  
The Yagami siblings watched the two walk away.  
  
"How come they always walk away, just when they're getting to the good part?" murmured Hikari. "How am I ever going to see how it's done?"  
  
Taichi looked at his younger sister oddly. "Hikari...you know, if you'd wanted...I mean...Takeru would have never married Hanae if you'd objected, or if you'd said anything...you could...I mean...."  
  
Hikari shook her head and smiled a bit bitterly. "I didn't want to be Takaishi Hikari."  
  
"Well, you could have kept your maiden name."  
  
"You don't get it...I couldn't marry Takeru-kun."   
  
"Why not?"  
  
She bit her lip. "'Anata no itami wa... watashi no kanashimi yo. Your pain is my suffering.' I couldn't...I couldn't let my pain make Takeru-kun suffer. It would kill me to know that he hurts because of me."  
  
Taichi stared at his sister. She had that Look on her face, a look which should never be seen on a mortal. It made her look like a young girl and an old woman at the same time. Too wise for her own good.   
  
After a while, he spoke again. "You know...it didn't work."  
  
Hikari nodded. Her smile was twisted, bitter. "I know."  
  
---  
  
Yagami Kakeru knocked at the door to the Hida apartment.  
  
"Who is it?" called out a sweet, clear voice. Himeko-chan.  
  
"Kakeru," he said.  
  
"Kakeru-kun!" she exclaimed, and opened the door. Himeko-chan looked cute, as she always did, in her pale pink shirt and long, flowered skirt. Her Upamon was clutched in her arms, and Mikomi-chan's Poromon was sleeping on its head. "What are you doing here? Come in!"   
  
Kakeru walked in, although he would have preferred staying outside. He didn't want to make a big production of this. "Is Mikomi-chan here?" he asked nervously.  
  
Himeko-chan frowned. "No...she went on a bike ride. Why?" She walked into the living room, and Kakeru followed her.   
  
"I checked at her home, and she wasn't there, so I figured she'd be here. I just...I just wanted to talk with her."  
  
"Sit down," Himeko-chan said. "Please." Kakeru sat.   
  
Himeko-chan smiled cheerfully. "Well...Papa and Mama took Osamu-kun and Ari-kun to the park, because they wanted to talk without Mikomi-chan or me hearing, but Ari-kun's a baby so no one cares what he hears and everyone thinks that Osamu-kun's got something wrong with him, so no one cares what he thinks, either. Then Mikomi-chan went on a bike ride to 'somewhere', without telling me where AND leaving Poromon with me, 'cause she figured that I'd call Papa on his cell and have him pick her up before she gets to her destination, and because this is Mikomi-chan we're talking about, she's probably going to stick her head in the lion's mouth and heading to Izumi-san's house." Her expression didn't change at all during her little spiel, and her voice remained perkily cute.  
  
Kakeru stared at the younger girl. He'd known she was smart and perfect at practically everything...but he'd never known she was _that_ perceptive. "Why...why would Mikomi-chan leave Poromon behind?"  
  
Himeko-chan shrugged. "I don't know what she wants. Mikomi-chan's often blinded by the righteousness of her actions and doesn't really think about what she's actually doing. Maybe she doesn't want Poromon caught in the crossfire."  
  
Kakeru grinned a little at this absolutely accurate description of his good friend. "So...you think she's going to Izumi-san's house?"  
  
Himeko widened her green eyes theatrically. "Don't let her know I told you! She'll be so mad!" She gave a dramatic sigh. "But please, Kakeru-kun, don't go try to catch up with her...I have a feeling Mikomi-chan needs to talk to Izumi-san, alone."  
  
"I wasn't -- " Heroic visions of himself rescuing Mikomi-chan from the wicked Izumi-san danced through his head. " -- planning anything," he ended weakly.  
  
Himeko-chan cocked her head. "Kakeru-kun...may I ask you a question?"  
  
"Sure," shrugged Kakeru, already wondering about the foolishness of coming here.   
  
"Why...why do you like Mikomi-chan?"   
  
Kakeru gaped. "What...what do you mean, why? Like her...I..."  
  
Himeko-chan looked unimpressed. "I asked you a question. Please stop sputtering and answer it. I mean, is it because you think she's pretty, or she's talented, or what?"  
  
Kakeru blinked, and considered possible reasons why Himeko-chan was asking this type of question. _Hmm. Maybe she likes Mori-kun, and thinks that I can give her an -- an insight? -- to a guy's mind._  
  
"I like her because...because even though she can be rude and thoughtless, and she's sometimes self-centered, whenever I talk to her...she gives me her full attention, and she always makes me feel like...like I'm in first place."  
  
Himeko-chan nodded. "Do any other girls make you feel like this?"  
  
"Hmm." Kakeru thought for a moment. He held up a finger. "My mother!"  
  
Himeko sweatdropped. "Oh."  
  
Kakeru checked his watch. _Uh-oh, Mom will be home soon..._ "I gotta go, Himeko-chan."  
  
"I'll walk you out." Himeko stood up. Kakeru followed her. She opened the door, and Kakeru stepped out.  
  
"See you," she said coolly.  
  
"See ya. Oh, and good luck with Mori-kun!" he said cheerfully as the door was closing.  
  
"Mori-kun?" she repeated blankly. "Why would I care about him?"  
  
Kakeru facevaulted.  
  
---  
  
Ichijouji Mikomi moved her hand to knock on the solid oak door of the Izumi residence, but stopped before she made a sound. She backed away, and started walking her bike away from the house.  
  
However, before she could leave, a large black car pulled up in the driveway, and a red-headed man stepped out. Mikomi watched in mixed fascination and annoyance as he walked straight past her without even glancing at her, as if blue-haired girls on his front walk were a normal occurance.  
  
Izumi Koushirou was about to open his door when the girl's voice rang out.  
  
"Are you just going to ignore me or something?"  
  
He turned around, shocked.  
  
"Mi...Mikomi...san," he said, sounding almost disappointed. His black eyes focused on her. "You...you sound much like your mother."  
  
Mikomi fiddled a little anxiously with a stray lock of her blue hair. "I know."  
  
They looked at each other for a while, studying. Preparing.   
  
Koushirou looked at Mikomi and saw the Miyako he'd known in his youth. Except for the dark blue hair pulled back into a loose braid, she could have been an exact duplicate -- the same eyes magnified by the overlarge glasses, the same high-pitched voice, the same determined stance.  
  
Koushirou wasn't sure when he'd started to care so much for Miyako; it was sometime in his teens, he was sure, but he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where the friendship he'd had for the underclassman and fellow Chosen had transformed into something else.  
  
At that moment, he realized that no matter what would happen between Miyako and himself in the future, if he never saw her again, if she refused to speak to him for eternity, or if -- he refused to dream of a happier scenario, because if he started hoping, he'd never be able to deal with the eventual reality -- he couldn't erase the affection he felt, for both herself and her younger incarnation standing in front of him. And he didn't want to.  
  
Mikomi looked at Koushirou and saw a tired man. There were dark shadows lurking underneath his eyes and a slump to his shoulders that she instantly realized had been put there by her mother -- and, indirectly, herself. Every empathetic bone in her body cried out in pity for him.  
  
Mikomi had come to Koushirou in search of answers, for however much she'd disliked him, he was one of the few adults who would give her an honest answer. She realized, however, that she would have to give him some answers as well.  
  
"You know, my mother doesn't hate you," she said in a conversational tone. Koushirou's head jerked, before remaining his normal calm. Mikomi sensed the change in him, though. He seemed to have already cast off some of the pain surrounding him already.   
  
"I don't think she hates you at all, really," Mikomi went on. "She was just upset by whatever she found out in your, um, conversation. At least, that's what Hawkmon told me when I called him She's been holed up in conversations with Mimi-san, I think, and she'll probably call Aunt Hikari and Sora-san soon, if she hasn't already."  
  
Koushirou merely blinked. "Were you sent over here to convey that information, or what?"  
  
"Oh, I wasn't sent, not really. I...just...kinda...came."  
  
"Riding your bike the whole way?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's pretty far. Did you tell anyone?"  
  
"Noo...I just wanted to talk with you. Mom won't miss me for a while."  
  
Koushirou turned towards the door. "I'm going to call your mother."  
  
"Are you guys still speaking?" Mikomi couldn't resist snapping that at him. It had the desired effect, after all. He stopped in his tracks. "Look, Izumi-san. I want...I want to know some things that my mother won't tell me. So, I'll tell you some things that my mother won't tell you, and you tell me some things my mother won't tell me, and we'll be even, kay?"  
  
Koushirou looked over his shoulder at her. "That seems reasonable."  
  
---  
  
Much to his surprise, Sora hadn't fought against Yamato half-dragging her from the restaurant. They stood in an almost deserted alley between the restaurant and another building, keeping company with a large, rusted dumpster and a few half-wild cats.  
  
Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Yamato spent his time studying Sora's features. He hadn't been able to look at her -- really look at her -- for some time.  
  
Something in Yamato's chest twinged.  
  
She's still beautiful.   
  
The silence stretched for quite some time. Yamato tried to pull his thoughts together, to focus. However, he kept getting sidetracked.  
  
Finally, Sora spoke. "You never answered my question," she said quietly.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Did I make you stop singing?"  
  
Yamato's eyes widened. "Sora..."  
  
"I just want to know."   
  
"You didn't," he said distantly. "In fact, if anything, it was your absence that made me stop."  
  
Sora crossed her arms, then uncrossed them. "I don't get it." Her eyes flickered to him, and then to the sky. "I thought...I thought I made you unhappy."  
  
Yamato shook his head. "Of course not!" He stared at her. "Why would you ever think that?"  
  
Sora took in a deep breath. "Mimi," she said. "When Mimi and Jyou divorced...there were the same warning signs as there are for us."  
  
"Warning signs?" Yamato said blankly.  
  
"He...he was too focused on his work. He didn't pay attention to her anymore. He didn't...Mimi felt like Jyou didn't care anymore. And...well, if he did care," Sora said primly, her lips pressed tightly together, "he didn't seem to show it very well."  
  
Yamato reflected that women were women and men were men and at some points, they would never be able to cross that chasm. Sora had spent most of her time consoling Mimi, although Mimi had bounced right back and had married some American guy -- Yamato could never remember the names -- a year later, divorcing him almost as quickly, and marrying some other guy bare months afterwards. On the other hand, Jyou had staggered around in a haze for nearly a full year -- to the point that he, Gomamon, and Taichi had kept a discreet suicide watch -- and had never really recovered.   
  
"Jyou has said that it was the worst decision he ever made, to let Mimi walk out of his life," Yamato countered.  
  
"He still let her go," Sora said fiercely. How could Yamato defend that jerk? He hadn't listened to Mimi's hysterical crying, to the curses she cried at the moon. Mimi's life had deteriorated so horribly, and she couldn't find anyone who truly loved her, while Jyou just kept on doing the same things he always did, barely seeming to care that Mimi had left. "If he'd said one word to her -- if he'd ever let her know that she was needed, that she was cared for, that she was loved -- she would have never left."  
  
"He was too shy to let her know. Or maybe he was too proud -- I never really knew."  
  
"He still should have told her. That's a man's job."  
  
"As it's a woman's job to abandon the one she loves, and never try to decipher reasons for 'why?'" Yamato asked tightly.  
  
"Who can figure out a man's reasons?" Sora shot back.  
  
"His wife -- if she bothers to try."  
  
"Try me."  
  
Yamato reached out with his hands and gently touched Sora's face, forcing her to meet his eyes. She didn't resist.  
  
"I'm not...I'm not...I'm always restless, you know. And I'm tempermental. And I...I like to explore, to do things, to live instead of letting life happen, to, to -- "  
  
"To sow your wild oats?"  
  
"Yes. No! No! I don't want to sow any oats...Sora, you've got a perverse mind."  
  
Sora shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. "I assumed...I thought you were, you know, cheating on me. You never seemed to be content with just me."  
  
Yamato stared, lowering his hands. "If I am one thing, and one thing only, then I am loyal. I have never, ever, ever, thought of cheating on you."  
  
"I'm...sorry I suspected you," she said in a small voice. "But...Yamato, I can't see any way of binding you to me. Of keeping you happy. It seems that...that you might be happier cut off from me entirely."  
  
"You can't bind someone," Yamato objected.   
  
"You can wish to make them happy," Sora retorted. "You can...try protecting them..."   
  
"I understand what you mean. But, Sora...you can't force anyone to stay."  
  
"I thought..." Her voice was cracking, broken. "I thought I was helping you, by letting you go. But it didn't help at all, it just made me more bitter. And it got you upset, and Tori and Touma..." Her voice turned to a whisper. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Without thinking about it, his arms encircled her slender body, giving her comfort. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder. She kept whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again. Yamato rubbed her back gently, trying to comfort her.  
  
"It's never too late to start again," he told her firmly. "Tonight I'll stay with you, and we'll talk, and we'll have our family reunited. We can always make up for the sins of the past."  
  
She lifted her head up and met his eyes, her face tear-streaked. "Really?"  
  
"Really," he told her, and bent his head down, not that far because she was so close, and kissed her. She kissed him back, and Yamato thought wildly that heaven couldn't be too far behind.  
  
In the entrance to the alley, two siblings watched, and smiled.  
  
---  
  
Mikomi sat at the large table in the cozy Izumi kitchen. Izumi-san's young daughter, Hitomi, sat next to her, obviously awed at her proxmity to 'Osamu-chan's Oneechan', but not quite being a pest.   
  
Izumi-san himself was making tea. Physically making tea, which was something that surprised Mikomi, as she'd assumed someone of Izumi-san's importance would have a cook, or a cooking program, to make everything for him. But no, no cook, not even his mother, who was sitting at the end of the table and reading, her eyes moving rapidly along the screen.  
  
"Tea's ready," Izumi-san announced.   
  
What Mikomi had thought was an incredibly ugly statue buzzed into the air and became recognizeable as Izumi-san's digimon. "Food?" the bug grated as he settled down at the table.  
  
"Of course, Tentomon," Izumi-san said warmly. He wasn't quite smiling, but there was more cheerfulness in his face than Mikomi would have guessed possible.  
  
Izumi-san gently placed a steaming cup and saucer in front of his mother, then in front of Mikomi, Hitomi, and Tentomon. Hitomi and Tentomon also got cookies. Finally, Izumi-san sat down, directly across from Mikomi, with his own cup of tea and opened up a small computer link.  
  
"What are you doing?" Mikomi asked impatiently.  
  
Izumi-san looked up, surprised. "I'm checking my mail."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I have mail to be checked," he shrugged (rudely, thought Mikomi, who didn't like being ignored.) "Oh. Mimi sent me a letter," he said, and blinked. "Odd."  
  
"Mimi-san?" Mikomi asked, eyes brightening. "Read it out loud!"  
  
Izumi-san gave her a dry look. "Why do you want to read my personal correspondence?"  
  
"Because it's Mimi-san," Mikomi explained patiently, "and she's probably been talking with my mother, so she'll be telling you, so it's important that I hear it, too."  
  
"..."  
  
"Just read it," Mikomi said, and refrained from sticking out her tongue, or any such mature displays of temper.  
  
Izumi-san sighed and started reading. "'Hey, Koushie-kun -- '"  
  
"She calls you Koushie-kun?" Mikomi asked, on the verge of laughter.  
  
"Yes, well, that's Mimi for you." He cleared his throat and read on. "'From what I've heard, you've been attempting to communicate with a member of the human race outside your immediate family. Good for you! However, blackmailing a woman and then embarrassing her is not the best way to win her heart. Lucky for you, this woman happens to be incredibly skilled in dealing with icky sludge-slime, and hasn't been turned off by your incredible lack of courting skills. However, she is feeling very lost, very betrayed, and very alone right now. I say seize the day, so grab your chance before you lose it forever. Again. Love, Mimi. P.S. If you screw up again I'll never speak to you for the rest of my life, except maybe to scream at.'"  
  
Mikomi was practically bursting with questions. "Was she -- she was talking about my mother, right?"  
  
Izumi-san didn't answer for a few moments. Then he looked at Hitomi and his mother. "Can you please give Mikomi-san and me some privacy for a few minutes?"  
  
"But, Daddy -- " Hitomi started.  
  
Izumi-san cut him off. "Please. I need to speak to Mikomi-san in private for a few minutes."  
  
"Let's go, Hitomi-chan," added Izumi-san's mother, standing up gracefully. "We can always listen at the door."  
  
Izumi-san sweatdropped.   
  
After they'd left, Izumi-san turned to Tentomon. The bug-like digimon sniffed. "I hope you're not thinking of asking me to leave."  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it, pal," Izumi-san promised. "Anyway, you know pretty much everything I'm going to say."  
  
"I'd hope so," Tentomon said haughtily.  
  
Izumi-san grinned, carressed the top of Tentomon's head in a brief affectionate gesture, and turned back to Mikomi. His face turned deathly serious. "I understand you have some questions for me?" he asked calmly.  
  
Mikomi felt like her mind was congealing. _How dare he mock me!_ "Y-yeah..." She bit her lip. "Mimi-san's letter was talking about my mother, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What did Mimi-san mean she said you blackmailed my mother?"  
  
Izumi-san swallowed. "Well...shortly before your father's death, he'd finalized his will with Iori."  
  
"My father knew he was going to die?"  
  
Izumi-san shook his head. "No. But he knew that being a policeman is dangerous, and that life is never guaranteed. He'd wanted to make sure that his loved ones were cared for."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Anyway. In his will, he'd left me a package. Contained in that package was his memoirs."  
  
"Memoirs?"  
  
"Kind of like a journal, which he kept for years. Ken wrote in them fairly sporadically, except when he needed to let out his feelings and he couldn't share them with anyone else. They cover the time from...shortly after he stopped being the Kaizer to right after Osamu's birth. Anyway. Ken left them to me, and didn't -- to my knowledge -- give a copy to anyone else."  
  
"Not even my mother?"  
  
"Not even Miyako. I...she knew that I had these memoirs, though, and she wanted to read them. I...lied her, and said that Ken didn't want her to read the memoirs until a year after his death."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I realized that they held painful material. Ken was very honest in his memoirs. He didn't sugarcoat a thing about his innermost thoughts and feelings. I thought that it would be too much of a shock for Miyako to read the memoirs only a week into her mourning year. I wanted her to live through the year and mourn naturally before being confronted with Ken's secrets." He sighed. "Then I, yes, blackmailed Miyako into working with me for a year. I don't know why."  
  
"I do," said Tentomon suddenly.  
  
"And why's that?"  
  
"You'd completely seperated yourself from Miyako and her constant reminders of the painful memories you'd locked inside yourself for the last eighteen years. Your natural altruism was the reason behind your original job offer to Miyako. But, after eighteen years of waiting, she'd suddenly walked back into your life, quite literally. You were going to do whatever you could to keep her back in your life, if only at a subconscious level."  
  
Izumi-san looked a bit disturbed. "Thank you for that insight, Tentomon. I think."  
  
"And because you worked so closely with her, you fell in love?" Mikomi asked skeptically.  
  
Izumi-san coughed. "'Fell in love' is not a good term. I think a better term might be 'awakened dormant love.' I'd never really stopped loving Miyako, despite it all. I just buried it."  
  
"Izumi-san...what happened last night?"  
  
He drummed his fingers on the table, idly. "I had a bad idea. I followed up on it. Jyou got drunk and spilled the beans -- I don't know how he figured it out."  
  
"Well, I had it figured out," Mikomi couldn't resist adding.  
  
"Mm, true. Anyway. Miyako asked if it was true, I said yes, it was, she followed me up to my room, we talked..." Izumi-san hesitated, and then went on. "I...I had kept the memoirs in a locked room, which was only accessible by a key I wore on a chain around my neck. I gave the key to Miyako. Then I left. I don't know what happened afterwards."  
  
Koushirou didn't mention that while the door had been locked that morning, the key and chain were gone, and he couldn't find a trace of either, no matter how hard he searched. He also kept the more private details of the night before locked away in his head.  
  
Mikomi swallowed. "What are the secrets about my father that you don't want my mother to know?"  
  
Izumi-san shook his head solemnly. "I'm not telling you. You might complain bitterly about this, but I refuse to tell you. I'm the original bearer of the burden of Knowledge, Mikomi-san. I believe that knowledge should be shared. But...I also know when knowledge cannot be given freely. If I tell you...you will never, ever, ever forget. And it would twist your feelings and beliefs. Sometimes, it is better off to not know." Mikomi knew he was serious, and remained quiet. "Your mother has the right to tell you, but I doubt she will. That's her perogative."  
  
Mikomi thought about what he was saying. He was right -- there were some things that were simply not to be known by mortal man or woman. And he seemed to love and care for her mother...  
  
She didn't know if they'd get married. She didn't know if they'd even date. (And wasn't it disgusting, thinking of forty-somethings dating?!) 

All that she knew was that her mother's heart was her mother's heart. She couldn't demand -- anything. All she could do was hope that her mother would be happy, no matter what she chose.  
  
Suddenly, Mikomi heard familiar footsteps in the hall behind her.  
  
_That doesn't mean I can't_ help them _choose the right path_, she thought with a smirk.  
  
"Izumi-san," she said, waking him from his thoughts. "Tell me why you love my mother."  
  
He blinked. "Tell you why I love Miyako?"   
  
"Yes."  
  
He met her eyes and gulped. _Good. He's the one nervous, for once_. "Well...I don't know why," he said awkwardly. "It's like asking why the earth rotates to the east and not the west or south, or why pi calculates to 3.14 instead of 3.15. Miyako's just...a good person. She makes you feel better for having been around her." The footsteps slowed, and then stopped. "She's genuinely warm inside -- she's loyal -- she's got no pretenses about her. She's honest. And she's...she's Miyako. And I love her."  
  
The door creaked open. Miyako was on the other side.  
  
Mikomi smiled maniacally, stood up, and gave a quick bow. "Thank you for your time, Izumi-san. I'm going to go...play...with Hitomi-chan now." She quickly darted around her mother's figure in the doorway.  
  
Tentomon, after a moment's hesitation, flew away as well.  
  
The two adults stared at each other for a long time.  
  
"Come in," Koushirou said finally.  
  
Miyako did so, and sat down at the place her daughter had so recently vacated. The door closed behind her.   
  
They were alone.  
  
---  
  
They stared at each other for a long time, neither wanting to be the first to speak. Miyako's heart was fluttering quickly, feeling like a bird in a cage, desperate to get out. Koushirou had passed through all stages of panic to some weird reservoir of calm. He recognized this would be the last chance he'd get, and he was determined to use it.  
  
When the silence was finally broken, it was by them both, speaking at the same time.  
  
"I wanted to ask you -- " Miyako started.  
  
"Why did you come?" Koushirou overlapped, almost accusingly.  
  
They locked eyes. Miyako was the first to look away. She studied the table for a moment, an eternity.  
  
"I came because I had to give you back something." Miyako reached into her purse and pulled out the chain and key. She threw them gently across the table. Koushirou caught them, turned them around.   
  
"Thank you," he said. "I suppose this means you used them."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you read his memoirs."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I am sorry," Koushirou said with genuine warmth. Using one gentle finger, he lifted up Miyako's chin so that she was, once again, facing him. Her eyes had filled with tears. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. With his other hand, he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.   
  
Miyako removed her glasses and wiped her eyes. "So what he said is the truth, right?"  
  
"There are many different shades of the truth," Koushirou said. "Ken was honest...but not complete."  
  
Startled, the handkerchief dropped from her hands. Miyako looked at him with naked eyes. "Huh?"  
  
Koushirou swallowed and went on. "Ken...even though you were not the person he loved best in the world, he still loved you. A man can love more than one person, you know. He loved you, and his children, and Wormmon, and..."  
  
"But I was just a substitute," Miyako said. "He didn't love me for being me, he loved me because...because I was there, and available, and I..." The tears started up again.  
  
Koushirou reached across the table, grabbed her shoulders, and actually shook her. "Don't you ever say that, Miyako," he said fiercely. "Don't you ever, ever, say that you're 'just' anything, much less a substitute. You're one of the bravest, most beautiful people I know. Ken could have had anyone, _anyone_, why do you think he chose you? Because you were important to him. Because you could help preserve some of his happiness. Because he did love you. He loved you enough to never, ever let on that he loved someone else. He never hurt you, physically or emotionally. He showed his love by protecting you from his private lies. He stayed with you, because you were important to him. You were loved on your own right -- never, ever think anything else different. You were loved for more reasons than being a substitute for Daisuke."  
  
The momentary rage drained out of him, and he slumped into his chair. _I'm finished. Gone. My one chance, and it's turned into me defending Ken -- Ken?! Why should I defend Ken? He's the one that hurt Miyako so much! How could he do this to her? How come he gave me his memoirs in the first place? How come Miyako had to learn about them? _  
  
Miyako was still staring at Koushirou with wide eyes. She started speaking, rather hesitantly. "You said...he loved me, so he protected me, even though it was built on a lie."  
  
"Yes," Koushirou said, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"So...even though it was built on a lie, the love is still there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then...you must love me a great deal, to have protected me and to have lied to me to such an extent."  
  
Koushirou's brain shut down. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do."  
  
"I...I heard most of your reasons for loving me before, I'm afraid."  
  
"I think your daughter set me up for that."  
  
"I think my daughter did, too. But...I think she had a good intention in mind."  
  
"'The road to Hell is paved in good intentions,'" Koushirou quoted gravely.  
  
"You're just upset because a thirteen-year-old outsmarted you."  
  
Koushirou sensed the time for a tactical retreat. "Well. I think it's my turn for a question."  
  
"Yes?" Miyako waited.  
  
"Why...why don't you hate me?" he asked, and swallowed. "I lied to you, blackmailed you, manipulated you...you have every reason to hate me. Why don't you?"  
  
Miyako blinked. "I can't hate you. I wanted to hate you, but...I could never hate you, even when you...even when I thought you betrayed me." She gave him a hesitant smile. "It wasn't totally your fault, after all. I was partially to blame, all those years ago. It's never as clear-cut when looking through the glasses of memory, huh?"  
  
"It's not," Koushirou agreed.  
  
Shyly, Miyako stood up and sat down next to Koushirou. Her fingers reached for his hands. He let her hold them. "I...I don't want to hurt anymore, because of mistakes I've made in the past."  
  
"Nor do I," Koushirou agreed.  
  
"I...I wondered...I want..." She took in a deep breath. "Koushirou, will you marry me?"  
  
Koushirou would have fallen off the chair if not for Miyako's warm grasp. A thounsand thoughts rushed through his head. This is what you wanted, this is what you've been dreaming of, don't let it go away, don't let her go away...but give her time, still, if you bind her to you too tightly you'll lose everything.

"Yes...and no," he said firmly.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"I...I would love to marry you, to be yours and only yours, until the end of forever and back," he said quietly. "But...I refuse to marry you just because you want to snap back at Ken. 'Ha-ha, I found someone to love, even without you.' I refuse to do that...because it's not fair to either of us."  
  
"I wasn't planning tha -- " Miyako started, but his mouth silenced hers.  
  
"However," he went on, "in a year, if you still feel the same way towards me...then of course, yes."  
  
Miyako smiled. Koushirou smiled back. Nothing could interrupt them now.  
  
Except for a sudden loud beep.  
  
"What's that?" Miyako asked curiously.  
  
"I've got mail," Koushirou said. He batted at the computer link, turning it off. "Not now."  
  
"I would have never thought that you'd put anyone before your e-mail," Miyako laughed giddily.  
  
"People change," he smiled back. "For the better, I hope."  
  
Miyako murmured something quietly, and smiled even wider.  
  
"What did you say?" Koushirou asked curiously.  
  
"I said that I can't hate you -- I could never hate you -- because I love you too much."  
  
"I love you, too," Koushirou replied, and to his delight found that the words so difficult to say years ago came easily to his lips now.

A long silence, a crystalline moment.

"I think some of our relatives are waiting for us," Miyako said in an undertone.  
  
Koushirou considered this. "They can wait."

~end!~

Oh, wow, that was sappy. ^_^;; However, it's not over yet! Go onwards -- to the epilogue!


	8. Epilogue

'The end' is such a hard thing to say. This fic meant so much, it was hard to stop writing it. So here's the overflow, in the happy ending everyone wanted. ^_^ A lot of research went into this part, by using Yahoo to look up "Japan AND weddings". ^_- The flowers were the result of much research (read: Yaho is GOOD) and thinking over various bouquets; I got the meanings from http://www.cybercom.net/~klb/flowers.html. I'm really not certain whether Victorian flower-meanings apply to Japanese weddings, but...aw, hell, I wanted them, and Sora's just good with flower-meanings, okay? All the previously-unseen digimon (i.e. those of the non-Chosen wives, etc.) are real digimon. Thank you, Megchan's Digimon Encyclopedia!

For semantics only, I note this: Normally, I refer to Japanese characters by the Japanese-style of naming (family name first, given name second. For example, with the name Izumi Koushirou -- Izumi is his family name, Koushirou is his given name.) However, for the Chosen residing in America and their children -- I prefer to name them Western-style (given name first, family name second). So I have a fewtimes where first names and given names seem mixed up -- people! I'm doing this logically, not by any real order!

For everyone who has helped me with this and for everyone who has been reviewing: Minna, hontou ni arigatou! Daisuki! [Everyone, I truly thank you! I love you all!]

Kirai ni Narenai~I Can't Hate You~  
The Epilogue!  
by Rb

A year, in Koushirou's definition, would be the period of time during which Earth completes a single revolution around the sun. Count it as twelve months, fifty-two weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, or 31536000 seconds. It's still the same amount of time.  
  
Thirty-one million and five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds after Koushirou and Miyako confessed their love for each other (give or take), the Chosen and their families gathered themselves in a Shinto shrine for the wedding.  
  
"But nobody has traditional weddings anymore!" Miyako had protested, laughing, when Koushirou had suggested it.  
  
Koushirou cocked an eyebrow. "We aren't 'nobody', dear."   
  
That pretty much sealed it.   
  
Koushirou wasn't insisting on strict tradition, though, as he was allowing all of the Chosen, their families, and the digimon partners to watch the ceremony, as opposed to the usual restriction of only the close relatives.  
  
As the old Shinto priest and his Tapirmon chanted the opening rituals in unison, everyone was in various states of joy excitement, and (in some) bittersweet memories.  
  
Yagami Taichi, the picture of a proud paterfamilias, stood with an arm around his wife and his other hand holding his hyperactive son's shoulder. Yagami Umi smiled, and held her baby daughter closer to her breast, Pichimon cradled in her arm. Penmon was sitting down at her feet, while Agumon was bouncing Koromon on his head.   
  
Yagami Hikari was a few feet away from her brother, looking both pensive and pleased, with Tailmon in her arms. Takaishi Takeru was a small distance away from her, Patamon in his customary position on Takeru's head. There was a tacit understanding between them that while Hikari could stand on her own two feet after all, Takeru was going to stay close enough so that on the off-chance that she'd fall, he'd be right there to catch her.   
  
Ishida Yamato and Ishida Sora were nearby. Sora's head rested on Yamato's shoulder, and his hand was placed gently on her gravid stomach, feeling for the baby's kick. Touma was sitting on Gabumon's back, while Piyomon was lifting up Tori so that she could see what was happening.  
  
Kido Jyou stared fixedly at the Shinto shrine, one hand on his son Shuten's shoulder, willing himself to stay composed. Beside him, Mimi Tachikawa was quietly translating the priest's fast-paced Japanese into English for her son Shawn. Palmon was laughing at a sly comment of Gomamon's.  
  
Hida Iori and Hida Reika stood together. They weren't touching, but their smiles were alike, as was the look of fond memory in their eyes. Her Labramon was sitting happily on Armadimon's back.   
  
In the front of the small crowd were Yagami Kakeru, Takaishi Mori, Daichi 'Dai' Motomiya, and Hida Himeko. All of them were holding their digimon (or, in Mori's case, having Tokomon rest in his mass of hair), watching the ceremony with the best spots possible. V-mon was sitting down at Dai's feet, wanting to see everything in as much detail as possible.  
  
The center of attention, of course, were Izumi Koushirou and Ichijouji Miyako. They stood in front of the Shinto altar, hands clasped, kimonos (designed by Sora, who had truly outdone herself) flowing.  
  
Koushirou was wearing a formal kimono of a dark blue which, while conservative, went well with his red hair. He also wore a haori jacket and the hakama pants. His voice was confident as he spoke the bridegroom's formal oath, a promise to always be faithful to, obedient to, "and never lie to" one another.  
  
Miyako was radiant in her bridal kimono, a magnificent creation.. Layers upon layers of white silk surrounded her, topped off by a bright red and orange flowered kimono. Her violet hair was in an elaborate style of immense proportions. Weighed down by the weight of her clothing and hair, she was only able to take small steps, but it didn't stop her smile.  
  
She held a bouquet of red roses, white lilies, and orange blossoms. Sora had instructed Koushirou on what to buy. "Not only are the colors traditional, they mean something special. Red roses for love, white lilies for purity. Orange blossoms mean 'your purity is equaled by your loveliness.' It fits her perfectly. And don't you forget it!"   
  
Surrounding the altar in a loose half-circle were their immediate family -- Koushirou's mother and daughter, Miyako's parents, siblings and children, and all of their digimon. All were beaming in their happiness, even Mikomi.  
  
The only person who wasn't smiling, in fact, was Daisuke Motomiya, who was standing in the back so that no one could see his face. His eyes weren't focused on the ceremony taking place, but on the altar itself, his features fixed.   
  
_This is the wedding that should have happened so many years ago, _he thought bitterly. _This is the wedding that should have been, instead of the wedding that took Ken away from me. How come Miyako couldn't have thought before flinging herself at the nearest man?   
__  
Hush, Daisuke.__  
_  
Daisuke started. The voice in his head didn't sound like his own unhappy thoughts, but rather like...  
  
"Ken?" he whispered, eyes widening.  
  
_Don't get angry about the things that have happened on the past. Dwell on the future, not what's behind us already. Weren't you the one that taught me that in the first place?_  
  
Daisuke stared at the shrine. It was very like the one that Ken's ashes were stored at, and if he looked hard enough, he could almost swear that something was coalescing in the air above it...  
  
But it wasn't Ken, not in the flesh, not the Ken he'd known. This Ken was...a spirit? A ghost? Daisuke shivered. In all of the ghost stories he'd heard, only souls with something left unfulfilled came back as ghosts...  
  
"It's so hard, though," he said softly. "I miss you."  
  
_I know__, _came the voice. A pause. _I miss you, too._  
  
The bride and groom were now taking the ritual sips of sake, warm rice wine, in the San-San-Kudo ritual, but it didn't matter to Daisuke. "Ken..."  
  
_Shhhh. I'm still watching over you, don't worry.__  
_  
Daisuke had a sudden impression of movement, and had a strange image of Ken's spirit counterpart floating over to him and embracing him. A feeling of peace rushed over him. He could almost feel the cool, featherlike touch on his cheek.  
  
Now, the large earthenware bowls were being passed along to the families. The wedding was almost over. Daisuke suddenly wanted it to last forever, because he knew somewhere deep inside his heart that when the wedding was over, Ken would disappear from him. Again.  
  
_I'll always be with you_, came the thought of Ken's voice. Daisuke's right cheek felt a sudden breeze -- Ken's breath? His kiss?  
  
"I want...I want to be with you, to tell you -- " Daisuke stammered, but Ken's spirit cut him off.  
  
_No. Not now. But some day, we will be united. Some day. But not yet._  
  
The ceremony was over. There was cheering, joking, laughter. A kiss shared. Smiles. Daisuke was alone, feeling Ken's spirit leaving him alone -- again.  
  
But not completely alone. At the reception, Daisuke sat down at his assigned seat and found a small bouquet of flowers he had never seen before lying on his plate. Surprised, he asked Sora, who was sitting next to him, what the small red and yellow flowers were.  
  
Her forehead creased as she lowered her eyebrows in concentration. "Mountain ash...and ambrosia. Huh, not a common mix at all."  
  
"What do they mean?" Daisuke questioned her.  
  
"The mountain ash means 'I watch over you,'" she said slowly. "And the ambrosia means -- love returned."  
  
Ecstasy filled Daisuke's body from his head to his toes. Love returned. Love returned. The feeling that he could never get up the courage to express -- it was returned. He was loved by the person who had meant the most to him. He smiled for the first time in what felt like years.  
  
Sora noticed, and smiled in return. "Daisuke, do you have a secret admirer who would be sending you flowers?" she asked him gaily.  
  
Daisuke shook his head. "No. Not someone secret."   
  
_Ken...I'm glad you're waiting for me. I'll wait, too.  
  
_---  
  
Jyou was slightly uncomfortable sitting next to Mimi. It was very distracting. He kept watching her, noting the length and style of her hair, the sweet scent of her perfume, the graceful way she used her chopsticks...  
  
"Soo~u, Jyou," she said turning to him and flashing a smile. "How's Shuten doing?"  
  
"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "he's pretty serious...focused on his schoolwork...he does play with Kakeru-kun and Mori-kun sometimes, but not often...he's rather quiet."  
  
Mimi tsked. "Sounds like he need a woman's influence."  
  
Jyou blushed. "Well, no...it's pretty much a bachelor's pad with us..." _Why did she have to keep making those kinds of comments? Did she get some kind of kick out of me blushing or something?_ he thought.  
  
_Tee-hee! He's so cute when he blushes!_ Mimi giggled to herself. "You know, Jyou," she said, "the next season of Palmon's and my TV show is going to be shot in Japan."  
  
"Really?" Jyou asked. "Are you going to live on-location?" Is she coming back?  
  
"Well...that depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On whether I'll be able to find an open bed to sleep in," Mimi said coyly. "Among other things." Her efforts were rewarded with the sight of Jyou's face turning beet-red -- and then purple, as he choked. Mimi helpfully pounded on his back until the blocked windpipe was cleared. "Better?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Much."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Will I be able to find a bed?" Jyou realized suddenly that her hand was still resting lightly on his back, and that she was leaning ever so slightly towards him, so that her shoulder was touching his arm, and her face was centimeters away from his ear. "Even half a bed will do," she said brightly. "But I do require an adequate number of pillows. Three, for preference. And I don't want all of my covers stolen during the night, like they used to be."  
  
Jyou, his heart racing, hesitantly lifted up his arm and stroked the ends of Mimi's hair. It was as soft as he remembered. "I'm sure I can find arrangements, if it's for you."  
  
"I'm glad," Mimi said, her eyes sparkling.   
  
Sometimes you have to go out and make your happiness, instead of having it handed to you. But that kind of happiness is worth even more, because you know the price of it.  
  
---  
  
The reception went on. Everyone had fun.   
  
Well, mostly everyone.  
  
Reika blinked at her husband. "Iori, is something wrong?"  
  
Iori sighed. "Am I that obvious?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
"Okay. Don't take this the wrong way, but..." His voice lowered. "I'm still a little upset Miyako-san married Koushirou-san."  
  
"But why? They're so in love, it brings a smile to your face just to look at them."  
  
"He hurt her once before. He might hurt her again," Iori said stubbornly, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth with his finger.  
  
Reika placed her hand over his. "Iori, I know you might not want to hear this...but Miyako's a big girl now. She can make her own decisions."   
  
Iori scowled. "I've been protecting her since I was nine years old. You can't expect me to stop just because she's grown up."  
  
Reika laughed. "No, but I can expect you -- and make you -- to stop interfering."  
  
"How?"  
  
Reika gently kissed his forehead. "That's how." Iori flushed bright pink. Reika smiled. "Koushirou-san'd be an idiot to let her go again. Look at the way he looks at her. He really, really loves her. He's not going to give her up for quite a while. If ever."  
  
"She deserves the best," Iori said stubbornly.  
  
"She does deserve the best," Reika agreed. "But she's never going to get it."  
  
Iori looked at his wife in surprise. "Why not?"  
  
Reika laughed again. "Because _I_ have _you_."  
  
Iori blushed redder. Reika thought about kissing him again, but restrained herself. Iori was a traditionalist in every way, shape, and form. Public affection wasn't something he was comfortable with.  
  
"I guess -- " Iori started.  
  
Reika shook her head. "Don't 'guess'. For once, be definite that Miyako was able to do something by herself. You and Hawkmon and everyone else guard Miyako like dragons with a precious jewel that never got to sparkle in the light. It's about time that she was able to love because she, herself, decided to love."  
  
Iori blinked, then smiled. "I was about to say 'I guess we should dance,' dear."  
  
It was Reika's turn to blush. "Oh."   
  
"Well?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
---  
  
At a moment when neither of them would be missed, Izumi Koushirou and Izumi Miyako slipped out of the reception party and outside, to where a car was waiting for them.  
  
They'd argued over where to spend the honeymoon.   
  
"Paris! It's sooo romantic!"  
  
"Dull. How about Amsterdam?"  
  
"Oh, come on! What about Madrid?"  
  
"Not the right season. How about Cape Cod?"  
  
"Are you kidding me? What about New York City!"  
  
"You go there about once a month!"  
  
"It's always worth it!"  
  
"What about space?"  
  
"That costs millions and millions of yen!"  
  
"I have some to spare..."   
  
Laughing, they'd finally compromised. But first, they were going to the Izumi residence to sleep.  
  
Well, sleep for part of the time, anyway.  
  
They were going to be in the bedroom, anyway.  
  
Let's give the honeymooners some private time, shall we?  
  
But, before they started, she asked him a question.  
  
"Koushirou, is it possible to lie to yourself?"  
  
He blinked, confused. "No, I don't think so. Not for any prolonged period of time, anyway. You can attempt it, but sooner or later, your true self will show through."  
  
"Are you sure?" she pressed.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Good."  
  
That being said, they surrendered to the night.  


Author's notes are in the next part. They aren't truly necessary to read, but you might find them interesting. Or not. ^^;; Thank you all so much!


	9. Author's Notes

I find author's notes completely fascinating. I'm so sorry if you don't, but I have to write some. ^_^

Well. It's over. It's really, really over. Four months, 107 pages, over 38,000 words. And it's over. I really can't believe it.

Here's some backround on the fic:

I took Tachikawa Mimi's original idea for this and ran a lot with it, really. ^_^ We were talking on March 29th, 2001, about ideas for upcoming fics, and Mimi-sempai told me her idea for a post-epilogue Kouyako fic:

"...and I am thinking about a way for Kouyako to happen... y'see... the way I have it figured... Koushirou's daughter--in spite of remarkable resemblance, is actually adopted. ^^ since Koushirou was adopted himself, I thought it would be a sweet twist. and since he's the computer-teccie for the Digital World, I figured that he's making a decent amount of money... anyway, he's a single father, never being married. and since he's got such high regard for education, he has his daughter attend an all-day primary school. and probably has a governess take care of her for the few hours before he comes home. since Kou-chan's a single parent, he adopted this daughter because he was getting up there in years, never been married...and he felt that although he was highly successful... he hadn't really made a large contribution to the world. so he adopted a child. insert sentimental twist--here:   
  
anyhoo. you can read into it what you like, but I guess the jist is, he has feelings for Miyako, but she married Ken. I'm just debating what the best way to get Ken out of the picture would be... especially since she's already got three kids of his. I don't want to have Ken leave her for Daisuke. that's not my style. I mean-- I could have Ken get killed somehow... and then... later on, when Miyako is past mourning ... she goes through Ken's private memoirs... and discovers it that way.   
  
the way I see it though...it's possible that Ken gets killed in a car accident... and Koushirou, his parents having been killed in a car accident, is sympathetic towards the family. and feels a personal...obligation..? to come to the childrens' aid..."

I was inspired instantly, and saved the IM. 

The next day, I found that I was starting to plan out the first scenes of the Kouyako fic, so I asked permission to write the fic out. Mimi-sempai agreed instantly, and I was off. ^_^

So, if you look at it, I've been writing this fic from March 30th to July 29th. Not bad, considering what a monster it turned into. ^_^;; And the sad thing is, if I'd been able to make this thing longer, I would have -- I cut out about three or four different plotlines concerning a) the children, b) Takeru, Hikari, and Daisuke, and c) Sora, Yamato, and Taichi. If I could have developed these plotlines, I really would have -- they weren't just the average run-of-the-mill love triangles. (For one, Taichi wasn't involved in any love triangles.) Daisuke's and Hikari's parts were really interesting, but I couldn't write it well enough. 

There honestly in enough backstory mentally planned out to allow me to stretch this fic out as far as I want it to go. I have ideas for prequels, sequels, and mirrors. I doubt I'll write any of the three. The closest thing that this fic has to a prequel is Close Enough, but that really spoils a lot, and it was actually written before I even heard the idea for the Kouyako. ^_^

For the four months of this fic, it was known as 'the Kouyako fic' or 'the Fic' or 'how's that mega-long story you're working on coming along, Rb?' For most of the time, I was searching for a title, something that would fit. I couldn't think of anything, and everyone kept saying "it's okay, you'll think of one afterwards." About a week before the end of the fic, while I was restocking minature surfboards at my job and mentally planning out the next scene, I thought of the title.

Kirai ni narenai.  
I can't hate you.

That honestly expresses so much of what I think about love in general and in this fic in particular. I can't hate you, I can't hate you. I've been trying so hard to hate you, but I was never able to manage it. I can't ever seem to hate you anymore -- in fact, I'm afraid that I love you. 

So, if you want to find a 'theme' of this fic, you can say it's either the above paragraph, or "Toei, stop giving your fans twenty-five years and an epilogue full of plotholes for them to expmain away!" I screamed enough times at the plotholes that I attempted to explain in this fic that I made myself hoarse. ^_^;;

If anyone's interested, here are the reasons behind the childrens' and the other original characters' names:

Mikomi - I wanted a name that sounded like both Miyako's and Ken's names. ^_^  
Osamu - Honestly, does anyone not know the reason for this name? Osamu was the name of Ken's older brother, who died in a car accident.   
Ari - For both the reason listed in the fic (it means 'lion' in Hebrew and 'ant' in Japanese, which interested me), and because a boy who recently died in my community was named Ari, and it's the practice in my family's tradition to name people after the dead.  
Kakeru - He was originally named 'Hikaru', but that was too close to Hikari, and my most common spelling error is switching the 'i' and 'u'. ^_^;; Kakeru is the name of one of the characters in Mimi-sempai's 'The Unicorn Academy', who's my personal favorite. ^_^;  
Mori - Um, this was just a random "I need a name, where's a name?" dash at kalabrians.com, and I liked it. ^_^  
Himeko - Reason listed in fic -- it means 'princess', which was the image I had associated with her. She looks so pretty in the epilogue, I want a daughter like her...^_^;; Plus, I figured Iori would spoil his daughter rotten.  
Shuten - Mimi-sempai named him. ^_^ It sounds kinda like 'Shuu', Jyou's older brother's name, and he kinda looks like one. ^_^  
Shawn - I just wanted a common American name, and Shawn wasn't used in the dub.  
Daichi - ^_^;;; This was a joke, aimed at all the people who swore Daisuke should have been named this. You have your wish -- in the next generation...  
Hitomi - Hitomi means eyes, related to vision...just seemed like a Koushirou-type name. ^_^ BTW, Koushirou's joke about naming his daughter 'Izumi Haruko' or 'Spring Spring' was a pun I just had to get in there somewhere. Blame my father for giving me a love of baaad puns. ^_^;;  
Tori - It means bird...Sora would name her daughter that.   
Touma - Another Mimi-picked name...it suits him, somehow. ^_^  
Yuuki - It means 'courage', and I'd be pretty surprised if Taichi's child *wasn't* named Yuuki. ^_^  
Satoe - It was the result of Mimi-sempai and I throwing names at each other until we were satisfied with a name for Koushirou's mother, who hasn't been named to the best of my knowledge.  
Umi - I like the name. ^_^   
Reika - It sounds a little like my real first name. ^_^;;;;;;;  
Hanae - It's actually the name of Yuki's stepmother in 'Shizuko's Daughter', one of my favorite books. Yuki's stepmother is not necessarily evil, but she's not a good person either -- she dislikes Yuki (the protagonist) and fears Shizuko (Yuki's real mother), she wants Yuki's father Hideki all to herself, she's very concerned with appearances, but even so, she makes Hideki happy. I didn't go into the actual story about this, but my Hanae was extremely jealous of Hikari and was the only person to succeed in getting between Hikari and Takeru.

I have some thank yous to put here, hope no one minds. ^_^

Tachikawa Mimi - Mimi-sempai, I could *not* have written this fic without your help, plain and simple. ^_^ Every step of the way, you were encouraging me, reading over my scenes, and cheering along with every slowly-written scene. Without your original idea, I would have never ever been able to write this monster. ^_^ Thank you so, so, so much. ^_^

Tracie - Oneechan, when have I not relied on you to help me out? You beta-read every single scene of this fic, correcting every spelling and grammar mistake I made (and believe me, there were plenty.)You cheered, you told me to write, you printed out scenes and e-mailed me comments by phone...thank you, you rule. ^_^

Whitecat - Whitecat-san, I don't know how many times I IMed you begging for beta-ing over the past couple of months, and I have no idea why you never told me to shut up. ^_^ You *helped*, you really, really did, and I will write the Marauders fic -- it's next on my list, actually. ^_^ Thank you muchlies. ^_^

For everyone who has helped me with this and for everyone who has been reviewing: Minna, hontou ni arigatou! Daisuki! [Everyone, I truly thank you! I love you all!]

I don't know how to end this -- oh, I know! How about with a retranslated version of the true song, Kirai ni Narenai? (It's one of the opening themes to Magic Knight Rayearth, my all-time favorite series!) The original translation came from cephiro.anime.net, which I polished off. ^_^

I can't hate you, but it's really not enough  
You don't know your real self.  
  
When you are about to give up hope,  
Your tears will be taken away by the wind  
Pouring out from the eye of the universe,  
The light will engulf you  
  
A magical jewel... everything we want  
Is even more clouded than our dreams  
  
I can't hate you, but it's just not enough  
I believe that my feelings are true   
After breaking through the wall of steel  
I'm sure a sea will open up to tomorrow and shine  
  
Even after you fall in love and get hurt,  
The stars will whisper gently into your ear.  
Even the crying face shown in the window  
Will turn to a smile in the morning.  
  
Sing, jewel... so that tomorrow's me  
will also be my true self  
  
I want to hate you, but I can't hate you  
My heart is always indecisive  
The night's veil makes you the least able  
to see yourself in this vast world  
  
A magical jewel... everything we want  
Is even more clouded than our dreams  
  
I can't hate you, but it's just not enough  
I believe that my feelings are true   
After breaking through the wall of steel  
Let's go look for our true selves now  
At any time, we are our own biggest mysteries  



End file.
